No Rest for the Wicked
by Liberty Roth
Summary: All she wanted was a well-deserved rest after saving Ferelden, but it looked like her newly appointed status of Warden-Commander was going to postpone that. And then there was him to consider. Anders/fem Cousland. Spoilers for Awakening.
1. Chapter 1: Congratulations, Commander

**Spoilers for Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age: Origins – Awakenings.**

* * *

It would always surprise people when Lourdes informed them that most of the time she had spent saving Ferelden had been spent on the road. They didn't seem to realize that there was no instantaneous way to travel from Orzammar to Denerim. If there had been, the journey of the small group of people would have taken only a month or two instead of the year and a half it had taken.

"So… for eighty percent of the time you were working to save the country… you were just _walking_?" One of the guards in the Denerim palace had asked her incredulously. "Just _walking_? What did you _do?_"

To tell the truth, there wasn't a whole lot to do while walking around Ferelden, Lourdes had figured out. She and her companions had learned to pass the time by talking or thinking or (in Leliana's case) singing while walking or running or marching across the country on their own two feet because they had been too stupid to buy a horse.

Sometimes, during these long walks from Orzammar to Redcliffe or from the Circle to the Brecilian Forest, the Cousland warrior liked to imagine how she thought her life would pan out once the Blight was behind her. Worst case scenario: dead. That wasn't very cheerful to dwell on, so she liked to think of the good scenarios.

In the ideal dream, she and Alistair would settle down someplace once all the darkspawn had retreated back to the Deep Roads. Which they would, of course. That was what darkspawn did when they didn't have an Archdemon to coax them from their underground lair. Lourdes would be quite happy with spending the rest of her thirty years of life in luxury. After all – she would have saved Ferelden by this point. All that excitement and heroism was all that was expected from her for the rest of her life, right?

Right?

Of course not.

Did her vision of her perfect life pan out perfectly?

Of course not.

Was it remotely close?

Of. Course. Not.

Instead of earning a lifetime of relaxation, she had earned herself some large shoes to fill. She had recently been appointed to become a Grey Warden commander. Great. Her task? Rebuild the force of the diminished Grey Wardens and become the new overseer of the legendary Vigil's Keep. To top this responsibility, as if it wasn't enough, there were still darkspawn littering the country. They were _supposed_ to be retreating underground by now, not lingering around to see the occupants of the country into the Maker's hands.

Lovely.

"I was hoping I'd get some sort of early retirement," Lourdes confessed to Alistair one day while she was waiting for her escort to be prepared. It was a bit awkward; they were both alone in her quarters as they chatted and Maker knew what the gossips would say about _that. _Though they had been lovers up until his coronation, their relationship wasn't _that _anymore… she had felt it in her bones when she had been forced to decide who to put on the throne. Alistair was the right choice for the throne… but she was not the right choice for Alistair. She was meant to be a Grey Warden. Though it broke her heart because she had still clearly been in love with the king, she couldn't put herself on the throne next to him. Lourdes couldn't do it. She was supposed to be a Warden, she knew it.

The feeling of _right _that she felt when she had been working to stop the Blight or when she saw the heraldry of the Wardens emblazoned on her armor was the only reason she hadn't down right refused the position of commander. And, okay, the more time she spent at court in Denerim, the more she realized that maybe she wasn't suited for a life of normalcy and quietness. Her vision of living quietly with Alistair had faded. Having to stay within the walls of the palace lest she be mobbed by those that wished to meet her was driving her _insane_. Lourdes felt useless and she quickly realized that the quiet life she had dreamed of with Alistair would _not_ suit her at _all_.

So maybe traveling to Amaranthine and getting busy with solving the problems they faced there was for the best. She sure hoped so, anyway. Idle hands weren't a good mixture with Lourdes.

"Early retirement for the Hero of Ferelden?" Alistair questioned, shaking his head slightly. "It's never going to happen. You're not some merchant or weapon smith who can just decide to lay down their craft and quit."

"I know. I'm a Grey Warden. I can't ever stop, technically," she agreed, wondering if she should remind him that _he _had stopped being a Warden and was instead the king. Probably not. She didn't want to anger Alistair right before she left for Amaranthine. "I sometimes feel like I just want to stop and take a breath and step away from the swords and the battles and the darkspawn."

"Do you?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes," she said with a dramatic sigh, rising to touch a tapestry that had been hung on the wall of her room. "But then I start feeling useless and restless and my fingers itch for my blades. And I remember that I have more important things to do than sit around _knitting_ or… whatever it is women that aren't covered in blood half the time do."

"Baking, maybe?" he suggested, rising to stand next to her. It was hard for her to control the urge to brush his hand with her fingers or kiss his cheek. But Lourdes did, holding herself stiffly as a servant appeared in her doorway.

"Warden-Commander?"

It was a moment before she responded. "Oh, right," she said after Alistair cleared his throat meaningfully. "That's… me. Yes?"

"Your escort awaits you in the stables," the messenger said, before disappearing as Alistair gave the mousy haired teenager a curt nod of the head.

"Stables?" she questioned, sheathing her sword on her belt. The king walked with her down the hallway toward the stables. "Well, I've figured out one good thing about being appointed Warden-Commander."

"Just the one?" Alistair asked with a grin, picking invisible fuzz off of the fine silks and velvets of his complex and brightly colored tunic. It was odd to see him without a spattering of blood or to have the metallic sound of armor accompanying his footsteps.

"Yes. I don't have to walk everywhere this time."


	2. Chapter 2: Mhairi and Misfits

I can't remember if Mhairi was an escort for the entire journey from Denerim to the Keep or if she just appeared near the Keep. For the story's sake, let's say she was part of the escort since the beginning, eheheh.

* * *

The luxury and thrill of having a horse to do her walking for her didn't last very long. Though Lourdes, the daughter of a teyrn, had been on a horse before, she had almost forgotten what it was like. It was very, very high off of the ground and it was very, very… boat-like. Her stomach was emptied several times throughout the journey due to motion sickness.

Her company was amiable, however, and they were kind enough to not make fun of how ridiculous she had to look with her dark face turned slightly green from the constant rocking motion. One escort in particular, Mhairi, had become a permanent fixture in Lourdes' sight.

"I've wanted to be a hero for as long as I can remember... my father used to tell me stories about kings and nobles and great battles," the young woman explained, looking far more at home on a horse than Lourdes ever could. "But my father evidently did not see me becoming a great hero, as I was betrothed to a trader a few days after I had my sixteenth birthday."

"So you joined the army?" Lourdes questioned. That was brave of her. _I wonder how many women would be willing to leave a steady future with a trader to battle for their lives. _"Were you scared?"

"No, my lady," A smile broke across the dark-haired girl's face. "I was never surer of anything. I found a place in the army that I had never felt at home and would surely never experience being a trader's wife."

Ah. Wife. How close had she come to being Alistair's wife? Very, very close… Lourdes forced her attention back to Mhairi. "And then you wanted to become a Grey Warden."

"Yes. How could I not, when tales of what you and King Alistair had done spread to my ears? You two defeated the Blight almost single-handedly. You started from nothing, if the rumors are true - just a plan and a sorceress at your side. That is admirable and when I heard that recruits were needed, I knew that being a Grey Warden was for me."

"You realize that being a Grey Warden is harder than joining the army, though? I mean… I'm not trying to sound ungrateful or anything, I'm very happy to have you here, Mhairi. But the Joining could kill you before you ever became a Grey Warden. And once you're a Grey Warden, you're a Grey Warden forever. You cannot undo what is done during the Joining."

Mhairi paused for a moment, before raising an eyebrow at her superior. "Are you trying to dissuade me from joining the order?"

"No! No, of course not," Lourdes said. _Yes! Yes, I am! If you have anything else that you might be successful at or even remotely happy doing…do it. You cannot shed the darkspawn blood once you welcome it into your body and you cannot extend your life past the thirty years you have after becoming a Warden. _"I just want to make sure you're aware of the dangers."

"With all due respect, Commander," Mhairi said, her eyes on the road ahead of them as they navigated some treacherous grounds full of cracks and steep rocks. The horses were steady, though, and skilled at picking their footing carefully. "There is danger in every profession. Being a Grey Warden seems to be the most satisfying thing I could do with my life and so I am here."

Four days later, Mhairi was dead. Though the woman had helped Lourdes protect Vigil's Keep and wipe out the intelligent darkspawn within, she did not survive her Joining. The taint proved too much for her body to handle and the woman's eyes did not open after swallowing the foul tasting liquid that was darkspawn blood. Remorse and sorrow coursed through the commander's body. Mhairi had hoped to find glory and all that she had found was a death not on the battlefield, but in the throne room of the Keep.

Still, the woman's sacrifice was not in vain. Though one hopeful had died, two others had successfully joined the Wardens. Lourdes congratulated the newly joined Wardens – Oghren and an apostate mage named Anders. Well. Some things never changed. She still seemed to be attracting misfits like crazy.


	3. Chapter 3: Apologies

"What is it with you and recruiting people that tried to kill you?" Oghren asked gruffly one day as they walked to the city of Amaranthine with their new recruit, Nathaniel. She had known Nate when they were children, though as he was a few years her elder (Three? Four? She couldn't remember.) he had never shown any interest in going off on "adventures" with her at her father's estate. Now that had changed, though – she had conscripted him into the Grey Wardens and he was coming along with her wherever she went. "You're either the smartest person I've ever met or the sodding dumbest."

"Oh, you know me," she said breezily, inspecting one of her daggers as they walked. The end of it was chipped slightly, making her frown as she ran her finger along the edge. "I keep my friends close and my enemies closer."

"Am I to be your enemy, then?" Nathaniel questioned, over hearing her last remark. Lourdes opened her mouth to speak, but Anders beat her to it.

"No, I think she plans on making you her best friend," Anders gushed sarcastically. "Be prepared to receive invitations to tea parties and balls like you've never seen before! Though formal attire is required, I _think_ you'll have to leave the poison at home."

"Are you never serious, mage?"

"Of course not," he said with a snort. "I've very obviously escaped from the Circle seven times just by distracting guards with my alluring sarcasm and wit."

"You've also been captured seven times," Nathaniel pointed out. "Don't forget that part."

"Six. Thanks to the commander, here, I was conscripted instead of being captured," Anders said, nodding towards Lourdes. She wasn't quite sure if he was being sincere or not with the smile he gave her. The mage had seemed earnest in his appreciation and didn't seem to loathe the idea of being a Grey Warden too much, but she had seen people hide their feelings before.

She thought of Alistair and how she had kept her hands to herself at the palace.

One of Nathaniel's black eyebrows rose as he spoke, pulling her from her thoughts of Alistair. "And you consider being conscripted being better than being captured?"

"Obviously, you've never set foot in the Circle Tower," Anders said, inspecting a frayed sleeve on his robe. "Or you wouldn't even have to ask that question."

"Was it the lack of robes or magical ability that gave me away?" Nathaniel questioned.

"No… it was more the fact that I think you wouldn't have any place to put your staff when you weren't using it," Anders said, a funny edge to his voice. A moment too late, Lourdes realized that he was using that string of dialogue as bait, used to lure Nathaniel into questioning what the mage meant.

And it worked like a charm. "What are you talking about?" The Howe demanded.

"Well, you have your bow on your back. And your pockets are full of all sorts of lock picking mechanisms and poison bottles and Maker knows what else," Anders explained, his voice rolling lazily along. "Which only leaves one place to put it. And I wouldn't suggest putting it _there_, as you already seem to have a stick shoved up your-"

"Enough!" Lourdes snapped, glancing back at the two men as they bickered. "Apologize. Both of you. Now. I'm not going to have you two fighting like children when we need to be fighting for our lives."

"What? I'm not apologizing to _him_, I was-"

"Anders," Lourdes said sharply. She felt a bit bad having to reprimand him like this because his talk with Nathaniel had been amusing her, but she _was _the Warden-Commander and she couldn't let things like this continue on just for her entertainment. "Apologize."

"Sorry," he muttered like a sullen child in a voice that made her sure he wasn't sorry in the slightest.

"Good. Thank you. Nate, apologize to Anders."

The dark-haired man was shooting daggers at her with his eyes as he gripped his bow forcefully. His reply was strained and came out laced with a level of sarcasm and ice that she hadn't known he was capable of. "I apologize, Anders."

"Good," Lourdes said, satisfied with their responses. They hadn't been sincere or heart felt, but at least they would stop fighting like children. And Oghren was sniggering in the back of the group, apparently finding this whole ordeal amusing as hell.

_You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together, _Alistair had once remarked. This wasn't a Blight anymore, but it still seemed that darkspawn and doom were knitting lives together just as harmoniously as they had before.


	4. Chapter 4: the Sword Swallower

I have thirty so pages of Anders!dialogue and scenarios (I write them down as they come to me haha so they're sloppy outlines) in one Word file and so far each of these scenarios have been a chapter. But I think I'm going to flesh them out a bit more and add more content per chapter so that they're not so short. Wooooo~

* * *

Lourdes tried not to play favorites when she was leading. As time passed, though, she noticed she kept bringing along the same people with her whenever she had a task to do. In Ferelden it had been Alistair, Zevran, and Wynne. Here in the arling of Amaranthine, it looked like it was going to be Sigrun, Nathaniel, and Anders.

Sigrun was a fighter who put everything she had into every battle. Her dual blades were wielded with precision and heart, even if she literally had a death wish. The woman was clever and blunt and possessed a wicked sense of humor, which had brightened Lourdes' day on more than one occasion.

Though she was sure she should be holding some sort of grudge against Nathaniel – his father had slain the entire Cousland family, _her _family – she couldn't help but respect his desire to make people realize he was not his father. Plus, there was also the fact that he could pick his way into any chest that held goodies she could pawn off. That was always nice.

Anders was amazing at knitting skin back together and casting fire-related spells, but his sense of humor managed to simultaneously annoy and amuse Lourdes. As did his questions. _Maker, _his questions! He was full of them. _If you weren't a Grey Warden, what would you do? Do I get paid for being a Grey Warden? Ooh, do you think that cloud up there looks like a bunny?_

Making camp with the three of them was always interesting, too. Sigrun and Nathaniel often talked, even though their relationship had begun with a rough patch. Lourdes couldn't remember the entire dialogue; it had something to do with Nathaniel trying to compliment her fighting and Sigrun pointing out that she had been fighting for her life in Dust Town long before she joined the Legion. Ouch.

Now, though, they were almost like two peas in a pod. Or, well, two _thieves _in a pod. They were talking very rapidly about _hook picks _and _ball picks _and _who could pick the lock the fastest._

This meant Anders sat down next to her, holding a bowl of warm soup in his hand. "You know," he said slowly, gesturing to the two rogues as they spoke animatedly. "I bet they'll be married before the end of the year. Maybe I'll get to be best man. Probably not, though. The Howe hates me and I suspect Sigrun does, too. I hope they name their son Frederick; I think Nathaniel likes it."

Lourdes didn't reply to this, though she was tempted to say something smart like, _Will you be doing Anders' Spicy Shimmy at their wedding? _Instead, she just shrugged, choosing to lift her own bowl of soup to her mouth. She almost spit it back out, though she forced herself to swallow it. "Maker's _breath_, Anders, what did you put in this?"

"What?" he questioned, lifting his own bowl to eye level to inspect it. "Does it taste bad? It shouldn't."

"It tastes like you let Ser Pounce-a-lot use it as a bathroom!" Lourdes accused, looking down at the bowl suspiciously. It wasn't likely, of course, but the yellowish-brown liquid didn't look all that appealing anymore.

"I only used what herbs I could identify… so it shouldn't taste like poison or anything," he said defensively, before pursing his lips thoughtfully. His earring glinted in the fire light. "Hmm. Unless…"

"What do you mean, 'hmm?' Unless what?" she questioned, setting her bowl down on the ground next to her feet.

"You killed the Archdemon, right?"

_What? What in Thedas does _that _have to do with anything? _"Yes, I killed the Archdemon. Why? What are you talking about?"

"How sad, then," he said with a remorseful sigh, turning his bowl of soup over and dumping it onto the earth next to him. "That you had to die this way."

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She was oddly reminded of the way she had been careful to watch Zevran all those months as he prepared their dinner. Should she have done the same for Anders? Was this friendly apostate act just that – an act? Was he so intent on freedom that he would kill _her_… the Warden-Commander? "What do you mean?" she demanded, a tight ball of dread causing her stomach to clench.

She should have seen this coming. She had been _so_ intent on watching Nathaniel to make sure_ he _wasn't going to kill her she hadn't ever stopped to think about how Anders might have felt. He had freedom at his fingertips, only to have it mercilessly ripped away from him as she conscripted him into the Grey Wardens. It was practically a death sentence… and now he was evidently intent on returning the favor, as the bowl of soup he had given her was laced with poison.

"Death by soup," he clarified, walking to pour the pot of soup into the bushes. "How embarrassing! Let's see the history books put a heroic spin on _that_!"

Later, Lourdes found out that it tasted horrible because Anders had added two palmfuls of an herb to the soup instead of two pinches. Her cheeks burned as he explained and apologized for the foul tasting meal. She should have had faith in him and she didn't and now she felt guilty and horrible about it.

She made it up to him by buying a brightly colored woven collar for Ser Pounce-a-Lot.

"Hey, thank you," Anders said, taking the gift from her. "That's nice of you. It's sort of weird to be getting gifts from my commander, though. Especially since I'm not giving you anything in return."

"Technically, you are. I've been stabbed more times than I can count and you've always patched me up without complaining. Plus, you drank darkspawn blood, so. That's the gift that keeps on giving," Lourdes pointed out, smiling as he laughed shortly. "And it's weird for people to call me Commander. I've finally convinced Nate to call me Lourdes again. You should, too."

Anders paused as they walked, setting his pack upon the ground and clasping the collar around his kitten's small neck. "Oh, don't you look handsome, Ser Pounce-a-Lot," the mage cooed, using a high-pitched voice that reminded Lourdes of how her mother had talked to her nephew for the first few years of his life. "Persuaded him to call you Lourdes _again_? When did he call you that in the first place?"

"Well," Lourdes said breezily lightly, pausing to get a drink from her waterskin. "Him and I go _way _back."

"Oh?" Anders questioned, raising an eyebrow suggestively. "_Way _back, huh? Old lovers?"

The commander choked on the water, coughing and spurting it onto the ground in front of her. Anders laughed once, before giving her what he hoped was a helpful thump on the back. Though he had meant for it to clear her windpipe of water, it really just made her stumble forward a few paces. "_No_!" Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder as he walked a hundred feet or so in front of them, scouting. Lourdes lowered her voice. "I mean. No. I knew him when we were kids."

"Really? The Hero of Ferelden was friends with a _Howe _before she saved her country? Now I _have_ to ask."

But they were approaching their destination and Lourdes could already see someone who looked to be in some kind of distress flagging them down. "Later," she promised Anders, going to talk to a traveler who had been robbed by someone she described as looking 'like that dark-haired fellow you've got with you, but with green eyes and a fatter middle and commoner clothing.'

"Congratulations," Anders said under his breath as they set off again, trying to hunt this man down. He couldn't have gotten far, after all, if he had stolen as much as the woman had claimed. A single man carrying a crate of goods wasn't likely to move very fast, especially when the woman hadn't mentioned a horse. "She just described half the men in Ferelden."

"It's not likely we'll catch him," she hesitantly admitted. "If he has any wits about him, he's not going to use the road. He also didn't bring a horse with him, which means he probably has some sort of stash close by. We'll ask around for him, anyway, just in case."

As Lourdes was acquiring rooms for herself and her companions at a small inn, she asked if anyone had seen him anyway. And nobody had. Or, rather, too many people had – the man's description seemed to match pretty much every man who came to the inn.

"'e sounds like ol' Ted!"

"Nah, that's Bert if I've ever 'eard him described!"

Lourdes sighed, heading to the dining room she had coaxed the innkeeper to let them use. It had been surprisingly easy; all she had to do was mention that she was the Warden-Commander (and thus also the Hero of Ferelden) and he had offered it at a discount for their private use.

"Has anyone seen him?" Sigrun questioned, shoveling food into her mouth like there was no tomorrow. Which, for a member of the Legion of the Dead, there might not be.

"Yes," Lourdes said with a scowl, sitting down next to the dwarven woman in the surprisingly plush seats of the chairs. It wasn't often that she got to sit in a cushioned chair – at the Keep, the dining hall chairs weren't actual chairs – they were uncomfortable

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at her tone and expression. "Yet you don't sound pleased about it."

"No, because about fifty people swear to the Maker that it sounds _just like_ Ted or Garth or Bert or whoever," Lourdes explained, taking a roll from the basket the innkeeper's wife had set out for them. "I really don't think we're ever going to find this guy."

"Probably not," Anders agreed from his spot around the table. He was pulling Ser Pounce-a-Lot from his pack and setting him in a spare chair. "Do you think the innkeeper has any scraps she'd be willing to give me? Or, well, Ser Pounce-a-Lot, I mean."

Sigrun shrugged, standing up and stretching. "You might ask her when she comes to refill your bowl. I'm going to bed, though. If you need me, I'll be in my room. Well. _Our _room." To save on money, the two boys were sharing one room (two beds, though, Nate had insisted on that) and the two girls were sharing another. "Night!"

A chorus of 'night!' met the dwarf as she left the room. And then near silence met the room as Nathaniel quietly ate his food and Lourdes bit into her roll. The noisiest occupants of the room were Anders and his tabby, who seemed to be playing a game with a spare bit of yarn.

Eventually, Nate stood and cleared his throat. "I, too, am going to bed," he said, gathering his small pack of belongings. "Goodnight, Lourdes. Night, Anders." And the dark-haired man was gone, leaving the three occupants of the room alone.

"You know," Anders said slowly when Nathaniel had gone. "I think he still doesn't like me very much. He said _good_night to you, but he only said _night _to me."

"I think you're reading too much into it," Lourdes said with a short laugh. "You're growing on him."

Anders considered this, still absently dangling the string in the air in front of Ser Pounce-a-Lot. The cat swiped with purpose, splitting open the mage's palm with a ripping slice of a claw. "Ouch," the mage said, releasing the string and examining his palm instead. A soft light washed over his hand and the small scratch was sealed. "So, I've been thinking."

She snorted, using the piece of roll she hadn't yet eaten to soak up some of the hot stew. "Change of pace for you?"

"Funny," Anders said, his fingertips dancing across the grainy wooden pattern of the table. "I was actually wondering how you became a Grey Warden. I mean, I've heard a _lot _of stories and rumors. I'll admit that learning you were friends when Nate when he was younger sort of wipes out some of those theories, but still. I'd like to know which one's right."

Stories? There were a lot of stories and rumors about her? Lourdes almost groaned. Some of those couldn't be flattering. "What have you heard?"

"Well, do you want the most outlandish story I've ever heard or the most plausible one?"

She considered this, folding her hands around the bowl as she thought. "Both," she said finally. "This could be entertaining."

"Alright," he stroked his face thoughtfully. "Most outlandish… you were once a member of a traveling Orlesian circus – you were the sword swallower. But you had been practicing fighting with swords as long as you had been swallowing them. One night, there was a rowdy group of armed men who refused to pay the admission fee. Your skill was a blade was expertly used to disarm the men. It was your reluctance to kill them as well as your ability to hold back and be merciful that impressed a Grey Warden recruiter in the audience."

Lourdes laughed, trying to imagine the stoic Duncan at a circus. "Why would a Grey Warden be watching a circus perform?"

"I've no idea," he admitted with a laugh. "I don't expect many Wardens visit Orlesian circuses. That's why it's the most outlandish."

"And the most plausible?"

"The most plausible one is rather simple. You were a commoner who worked next to a weapon smith shop and you picked up skills from the weapon smith. The Grey Warden recruiter was in the weapon smith shop and saw you and asked you to help him test out some steel. You nearly bested him and he recruited you."

"Wow," she said. That _was _simple and almost sounded as if it could be true. It had enough of a twist so that it sounded like a good story, but not such a huge twist that it made her a sword swallower. "That does sound plausible, you're right."

The mage brushed a stray piece of his hair out of his face. "Are either of those true? Personally, I'm hoping the circus one is the right one. It's very amusing and would be an unexpected twist, as I've never seen you shoving a sword down your throat. The throats of _darkspawn_, maybe, but not _yours_."

"No, neither of them is true," she told him, grinning at the look of crushed hope that was on his face. "Sorry. The real story is that I'm the daughter of a teyrn. I've trained with weapons all of my life with my brother. Duncan – that was the Grey Warden who recruited me – came to my home hoping to recruit either me or our best knight."

She was very aware of his eyes on her face as she looked down into her stew, suddenly very busy with getting the last bit of liquid with a piece of bread. "You're not saying something," he observed, his words slow.

"I'm not saying _what? _I just told you my entire life story."

"No, you didn't. You're lying," he said hesitantly, afraid of accusing his commander of lying to him. "Or… hiding, I guess, would be a more accurate term. You're not telling me everything."

"Well, you haven't told _me _everything about _you_," she pointed out. She wasn't going to surrender the woes of her life without knowing something about him first. People tended to get sympathetic and awkward when she told them that her entire family had been murdered. She didn't want that to happen now. "An eye for an eye."

"Alright, then. My name is Anders. I'm twenty and four. I'm an apostate. I discovered I was a mage when I was five and I could make it snow in my room. I managed to hide this fact until I was fourteen and I was sent to the tower when my family found out. I like cats. I don't like the Circle. I'm an apostate slash Grey Warden. I also make a mean rabbit stew."

She smiled. "When you don't add too many paice leaves," she reminded him. "Otherwise it tastes horrible."

"I said I was sorry about that."

"I know," Lourdes said with a laugh, standing and stretching much like Sigrun had done. "I forgive you, but my tastebuds don't. Anyway. I'm going to bed now. Try not to irritate Nathaniel too much before morning."

He sighed, lazily petting Ser Pounce-a-Lot. "I can't promise anything."


	5. Chapter 5: Catalysts

I debated over posting this chapter now or waiting until later in the story, but I think I'll like having it here. Hopefully. I mean, Anders can be serious when he wants to be, right? Right?! Riiiiiiiiiiiight.

* * *

Anders' curiosity didn't end with the explanation that she knew Nate because she was the daughter a teyrn and Nathaniel was the son of an arl. If anything, it only spurred _more_ fascination with her past and he seemed to spend their traveling time thinking of questions that he would assault her with once they made camp. Today, as they started to construct their tents and ladle food into bowls, he wanted to know about the people she had traveled with.

"Alright, so I've met Alistair and Oghren," he said, quickly finishing setting up his tent and helping Lourdes to assemble hers. He held a wooden pole as she tethered the material of her shelter to it. "And you said that Wynne woman was with you, too? The mage we met in Amaranthine?"

Lourdes' hair fell into her face as she carelessly tossed her bedroll into her tent. She would do it later – right now she was very tempted to snag some of the delicious-smelling rabbit stew that Anders had fixed for them. This time he had been very, very careful to add the proper amount of ingredients. "Wynne lived at the Tower. How did you not recognize her?"

"I didn't pay much attention. Honestly, I hated that place and I was intent on escaping. I didn't exactly make a lot of _friends. _Plus, every old person looks exactly the same. Watch, when you're seventy you'll look just-" His words cut off abruptly. A strange feeling hit Lourdes. She knew why he had stopped. It was because she wasn't going to ever _be _seventy. She probably wouldn't even make it to forty-five and neither would he.

The dark-haired Warden cleared her throat once. "Right," she said, standing and moving over to the fire where his stew was simmering. "Anyway. You, er, wanted to know about the other people I traveled with?"

"Yes," he said, stirring the stew once before putting some into a bowl for her. Lourdes took it from him without hesitating; the scent rising from it was meaty and delicious smelling. And it wasn't just rabbit in the food, either – she had managed to find some wild potatoes growing in a patch of earth near their camp and those had been added to the pot. "Is it good this time?"

She took a tentative sip, tilting the bowl to her mouth. It was hot and burned her lips and tongue, but it was good and hearty. "Yeah," she said, waiting for him to fill his own bowl. When he was finished, they found a place to sit, their backs leaning against the trunks of two large trees. "Which person do you want to know about?"

"Uhhh," he said, pausing as he lifted his bowl to his mouth. "Describe them for me and then I'll decide. I don't know anyone besides Oghren and Alistair. I already know Oghren. I mean, once you smell a man's burp in your face, you pretty much know him thoroughly."

Lourdes nodded, setting her stew down onto a patch of grass next to her thigh. It was too hot to eat now, so she would let it cool while she struggled to find the right words to describe her former companions. "Leliana, the Orlesian bard… Zevran, the Antivan Crow. Uhhh. Sten, the Qunari warrior. Morrigan, the daughter of Flemeth. Shale, the dwarf-turned-golem… and you met Oghren and Wynne… oh, and my dog, but he's a _dog._ The explanation pretty much ends there for him."

Anders considered who she had mentioned and it was several moments before he spoke. "You mentioned something about a Crow? Don't they usually kill people?"

"Picked up on the assassin part, did you?" she questioned, picking up her food for a second attempt at eating it. Though it was still very, very warm, it was cool enough to eat without scorching her tongue. "Yeah, Zev tried to kill us the first time we met him."

"And you let him _stay?_" Anders seemed thoroughly surprised at this, which in turn surprised _her. _Hadn't she shown her tendency to provide mercy for past mistakes when she had agreed to let Nathaniel join her? She thought so. But maybe Anders had forgotten that already.

"Yeah," she said slowly, raising her eyebrows at him pointedly. "I have this horrible habit of looking past the mistakes that people have made. I should really stop. Hey, wait… didn't you kill some templars? Aren't you an apostate? Maker, what was I thinking when I recruited you?"

"Probably something along the lines of, _He's so good-looking, I'm willing to look past whatever he's done._"

She snorted at his jesting. "No… I don't think I was thinking _that. _Probably something more like, _he seems to be a bit delusional so I don't think he'll be that much of a danger to us._"

Anders laughed, shaking his head as he cupped his hands around his bowl of stew to keep them warm. It wasn't exactly _cold _in their camp, but it was definitely getting cooler as the sun dipped below the horizon.

They both sat in silence for a while, enjoying their meal. Faintly, Lourdes could hear Sigrun snoring softly and Nathaniel sharpening his weapons by the fire. As they finished their meals beneath the trees, the Commander folded her hands in her lap and reclined further against the tree.

"So," she began. "I told you about my companions. Now it's your turn to tell me about yours."

"Uhh," he said slowly, glancing over at her. "I mentioned the whole 'I'm an apostate' thing, right? Thought so. We usually escape on our own. The templars sometime catch on when a whole mob of mages climb out of a window."

"Is that how you did it? You climbed out of a window? You nefarious mastermind, you!"

"I was _joking_," Anders said with a sigh, shaking his head at her. "It was a bit more complicated than that. Well. A _lot _more complicated than that. And it might have involved the destruction of a portion of a wall… maybe. Anyway, that's not important. I tend to escape alone."

"Ah, you said _tend,_" Lourdes said, sitting up a little straighter. "That means you've escaped with someone in the past. Who was it?"

"The first two times I escaped, I did it with one of the few friends I made at the Circle. He was good at it and he had a _lot_ of good ideas," Anders said, closing his eyes as he remembered. "I was sixteen and he was in his early twenties, I'd guess. Smart fellow. Named Hugh. Well, Hugh and I made it half way to Redcliffe before we were caught by the templars."

"And the second time you escaped?"

"Hugh didn't take his second taste of freedom so well," Anders said slowly, opening his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I surrendered when we were surrounded, but he wouldn't give up without a fight with the templars."

His tone of voice made it very clear that Hugh didn't survive to see Anders escape from the Tower a third time. Lourdes looked down awkwardly, unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry, Anders," she said quietly.

"It's alright," he said, clearing his throat a few times. When he spoke again, he was trying to make his voice casual. "So I asked Nathaniel which teyrn you were the daughter of. He told me that you come from Highever."

Her body tensed with his change of topic. She picked up her bowl from the grass, using it as something to hang onto tightly as she spoke. "That's right. His father and my father were friends."

"And then you killed his father?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that," she said through gritted teeth. Rendon Howe always made a bubble of confusing emotions rise into her chest. She felt anger over what he had done, but she always associated him with the death of her family and that made a piercing sadness surface, too. "I wasn't without reason, I promise."

"I know," the joking edge that usually accompanied Anders' words was gone. It scared Lourdes a bit, to hear the foreboding seriousness in his voice. "I asked him what his father did to your family. Now I remember hearing something about it at the Circle. News doesn't travel to the Tower very often and a few details were muddled. Even Nathaniel couldn't tell me for sure what happened. I was wondering… if you wanted to talk about it."

"I don't want to," she said, scowling as she gripped the bowl. "But I will. My father and Rendon Howe were best friends. He came to visit on the same day that my brother Fergus was leaving and the Grey Warden Duncan was hoping to recruit someone from our home. With my brother and most of our armed forces gone with him, Howe – Howe's men attacked. They killed… everyone. My mother, my father, my sister-in-law, my little nephew, my best friend, my nan. Duncan helped me escape after I agreed to undertake the Joining. And here I am."

Anders was quiet for a long time, before shaking his head at her. "I don't… understand. Duncan saved your life. But then he_ blackmailed_ you into joining the Grey Wardens. How did he even _say _that? _I'll save your life, Lourdes, but only if you agree to then give it up in service to the Wardens?_"

"Basically," she said, a short and hard laugh coming out of her mouth. Lourdes wasn't necessarily angry towards the fact that Duncan had saved her life and then demanded it in return, but she was sick and tired of people always taking the Grey Warden's side. _How lucky you were to have Duncan there to save you, _they would say sympathetically. _Otherwise you would have perished with your family. _It was refreshing to have someone instantly realize what Duncan had simultaneously snatched from her.

"Basically," Anders repeated slowly, letting an awkward silence close over the two. It made the commander uncomfortable – she didn't like feeling vulnerable and sad like this. Lourdes shifted against the tree for a moment before she stood, collecting his bowl from his hands and placing it inside of her own bowl.

"I'm going to bed," she announced as she deposited their dishes in the _needs to be washed _pack that had clothes and various cutlery in it. "Before I wallow in self pity too much. Goodnight, Anders. I'm sorry about your friend, I really am."

"It's all right," he called to her as she started to walk to her tent. "The second escape led to my third, which led to my fourth and eventually to my seventh. The seventh led me to the Grey Wardens, which led me to freedom. I thank Hugh now and then for acting as a catalyst."

Anders' words stayed with Lourdes as she took her armor off and crawled underneath her blankets. _I thank Hugh now and then for acting as a catalyst. _She had never thought of a tragedy in that way and it was odd as she tried to put Duncan's actions in a different light. Without him, she would be dead. Fergus would have surely perished, as well, because without her to stop the Blight there would be darkspawn roaming in Ferelden. Nathaniel probably would have been executed or sent to prison. Sigrun would have been killed (or worse) by the darkspawn and Anders would have been returned to the Circle.

In her mind, right before she drifted off into sleep, Lourdes thanked Duncan for acting as a catalyst.

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So lemme know how you liked this chapter. Because honestly, I'm much better at humor than serious business and I want to know if the shift between joking!Anders and serious!anders wasn't too drastic and sudden.


	6. Chapter 6: Laundry and Crowns

Laundry. It was something that Lourdes had never had to do growing up – servants had always taken care of it for her. Her dirty clothing had been whisked away almost as soon as it had been dropped into a woven basket made for that very purpose. A day or so later, it would be returned to her, folded and cleaned and tucked neatly away into her drawers for her.

Obviously, this magical process did not happen on the road.

Lourdes had been quite embarrassed the first time she had done her own laundry. Thank the Maker it had been while she was traveling with Duncan to Ostagar and not when she had been traveling with Alistair. The older Grey Warden had been kind and understanding, knowing that because she was a noble she wasn't accustomed to doing such things. He had taught her how to wash her clothing and knead stains from the fabric and how to string a line between two trees so they could dry in the sun.

Which she was planning on doing today, since they had all been forced to rewear their laundry because apparently no one beside her was going wash anything. It was a little odd, since she was technically in charge of her companions, but she didn't mind. It would take her mind off of her recent conversation with Anders, which had succeeded in making her feel very awkward around him.

"Do you have anything that needs washed?" Lourdes questioned, standing in front of Sigrun with her arms full of her own dirty laundry. Sigrun nodded, disappeared in her tent for a moment, and then came back with a neatly folded pile of dark clothing. That surprised her – the Warden-Commander had always thought of Sigrun as the type to just throw things carelessly into her tent when she took them off.

The question was repeated for Nathaniel. "Yes, thank you," he said, pulling his pack out. He removed several lock picking kits and poison bottles and tiny daggers before producing some articles of clothing. Like Sigrun's, they were also folded. Lourdes started to feel a little bad – was she the only one who kept her dirty clothing wadded up at the bottom of her pack?

Anders approached the two with a robe folded over his arm. "Doing laundry? I don't suppose you could wash this for me, could you? It's sort of… crusty on the edges. I'm not sure what we walked into, but it dried."

Nathaniel frowned, noticing the pile of laundry that was accumulating as Lourdes took the robe from the mage. "Do you need help?"

Well, that was generous. "Oh, er, thanks. Yeah, I guess so," Lourdes said, giving him a half smile. It was a lot of laundry to do for one person, but having Nathaniel help would get the task done more quickly.

"Anders, go help Lourdes with washing clothing."

"What? I only have the _one_ robe! I'll wash it myself, then, if you're trying to get me to do everyone else's laundry," Anders grumbled. But Nathaniel was giving him a pointed, meaningful look. The mage scowled, but snatched half the laundry from Lourdes' arms and marched off toward the river.

"I wish you wouldn't provoke him," Lourdes said slowly, watching him stride purposefully away from the camp.

Nathaniel laughed, tucking his daggers and thieving items back into his pack. "I wish he wouldn't give me so many opportunities. I'll make it up to him. The next time we wash clothing, I'll help do it."

It wasn't long before she joined Anders and they were both kneeling by the river, trying to wash out all of the blood and mud and whatever happened to be dried into their articles of clothing. Truthfully, Lourdes had been worried that their recent conversation about the deaths of people they knew would make something awkward and heavy sit over their conversation. But Anders was always surprising her.

As they did laundry, for example, he seemed to be intent on playing a game of "is it true?" and launching questions at her like there was no tomorrow.

"Is it true that you saved the Circle from abominations?"

"Yeah," she said, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to work a particularly tough stain from a shirt of hers. "I'm guessing you weren't there when that happened or you would remember."

"No, it must have eclipsed with one of my tastes of freedom. Is it true that you found the Urn of Sacred Ashes?"

"Yes."

He looked over at her incredulously. "Just… _yes? _You found a legendary object – the _ashes of the prophet Andraste _and you just say _yes? _No whoop of joy? Not even a tiny smile?"

Lourdes smiled at _that_, shrugging. "I'm tired. Anyway, there wasn't anything really special about them. They were just ashes. I mean, they were ashes protected by all sorts of ridiculous magic and trials and tests and whatnot, but they were still just ashes. Andraste herself didn't talk to me or shake my hand in congratulations."

"I always thought she'd be more of a hug person and less of a handshake person," Anders mused. "And you used the ashes to restore Arl Eamon, is that right? After saving Redcliffe?"

Lourdes spent the next half hour simultaneously washing laundry and explaining to Anders every step of her journey. From the Korcari Wilds to the Landsmeet, she told him about everything she did. He seemed surprised when she told him that she had only been a Warden for about a day when she had set off with the task to stop the Blight and save an entire country.

"You're _joking_," Anders said incredulously, helping her string a wire between two sturdy trees. "Why would you do that when you had only been a Warden for a _day_?"

"Who else was going to do it?" Lourdes pointed out, bending to get a piece of damp laundry to hang over the wire. "All of the Grey Wardens were killed at Ostagar."

"Why couldn't the king do it?"

"Alistair wasn't king _then_. Besides, I could hardly say no to him. That'd be a mean thing to do. Oh, Alistair, I know you just saw your entire order slain and betrayed by this man, not to mention your half-brother Cailan, but I think this is too much for me. I'm probably going to leave you here in this swamp, but hey – good luck with the whole saving Ferelden thing! Lemme know how it turns out," she snorted, wringing out excess water from a pair of pants onto the grass. "Could you say that to someone?"

"Probably, if I tried hard enough," the mage said, but she couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not. She doubted it. She had heard Anders stick up for the underdogs in Amaranthine and he always did what he thought was right. "From now on I'll try not to complain when you ask me to help do laundry. It could be worse. You could be asking me to save the whole country."

They hung laundry in silence for a while. Lourdes began to hum under her breath as she hung the clothing in the sun, the scents of clean clothes and sweet grass rising in the wind. Anders joined her after a moment, quietly humming away. After a few minutes, his hums fell away.

"So, I've been thinking again," he said, a serious tone back in his voice. Lourdes opened her mouth to speak, a smile on her face, but he cut her off. "Yes, yes, I _know. Isn't that dangerous, Anders? Did your brain catch fire? I don't see any smoke coming from your ears, mage, are you sure you're doing it properly?_"

She laughed, throwing a damp piece of cloth at his face. He pulled it from his head, smoothing his ponytail down. "I wasn't going to say that. I was going to ask you what you were thinking about. Honest. Commander's honor."

"Yeah, I've heard that before," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he hung the shirt. "Somehow I don't believe you. It could be the mischievous smirk you have or that joking twinkle in your eye, but I don't believe in your commander's honor."

"So what were you thinking about, ser mage?"

"You, actually. And Alistair," he said, finishing his chore of hanging wet clothing out to dry. When he was done, he set down in the tall grass. She joined him, sitting a few feet away and occasionally plucking out the tall strands of grass. "I've heard a lot of rumors about the famous Grey Wardens that saved Ferelden. A lot of them aren't true, I know, but I was wondering if… one _particular _rumor is right for once."

Lourdes was almost scared to ask. People had thought she had performed in an Orlesian circus. What had they said about the king? "Oh, for the love of Andraste. What do the gossips have to say about Alistair and I?" She gave an exasperated sigh, taking three blades of grass and weaving them together into a long braid.

"Do you want the most plausible and least plausible stories again?" he asked with a grin, pulling his own strands of grass to braid together. "They're amusing."

"Please. I need a laugh."

He took a breath, trying to decide which story to tell. There had been multiple ones floating around the Circle Tower – some scandalous and risqué, others mere tales of friendship. "Most plausible – you're friends. Best friends, in fact, who have spent almost every waking moment together since you set off to end the Blight. He was your first friend within the Grey Warden and you put him on the throne because you knew he could lead."

"How boring," she commented, her fingertips running over the bumps of the braid she had created. The grass here wasn't green, but it was a dark wheat color, instead. Her braid of plants almost matched Anders' hair exactly. "You think they would come up with something more exciting."

"That's what I thought. But the least plausible one is more interesting than I'd care to know," he said with a short laugh, shaking his head slightly. "Least plausible – you and Alistair made up two thirds of an Orlesian threesome with that rogue Leliana. You put him on the throne because you're a terrible, terrible woman who wishes to use your influence over him to rule Ferelden."

"If I wanted to rule Ferelden, wouldn't I have put myself on the throne with him?" Lourdes pointed out, shaking her head. As she did so, some of her hair escaped from behind her ear, falling into her face. It was brushed back into place impatiently. She was trying to grow it out long enough so that it could be gathered into a ponytail – right now it was just past her chin and not every strand could be pulled back neatly.

"That's what I told the gossips. But apparently you think that it would be much too obvious if you did that, so you chose to stay a Grey Warden instead."

"I'm surprised at how nefarious I secretly am."

"So was I, trust me," he assured her, before pausing slightly. He reclined in the long grass, crushing the blades of grass as he lay flat. "So what's the real story? Am I allowed to know it?"

"Only if you tell me what you _think_ the truth is between Alistair and I," she decided. She was interested in knowing what he believed was true about her and what couldn't be plausible in the slightest. "You've only known me for a few months but I want to see how well you know me."

"I agree wholeheartedly with the second gossip. Your demeanor practically _screams _'I'm two thirds of an Orlesian threesome.' And the terrible part, that's _definitely _you," Anders said flatly. "I think they hit the nail right on the head with that."

Well, that wasn't very fun. Lourdes scowled, tossing pieces of grass at him. When she was done assaulting him with short lengths of grass, she laid down in the grass near him. "I'm not going to tell you the truth if you don't guess first. It's no fun that way. I like to trade my secrets for entertainment."

"Oh, fine," he said, impatiently brushing the grass from his robes and shoulders where they had landed. "I think you loved him. I can see it. I saw him and you talking at Vigil's Keep once. You loved him."

"You're wrong - _still_ love him," she admitted, frowning as she curled the braid of grass around her ring finger. How close had she been to marrying Alistair and becoming queen? Very, very close. If she had married him, would she still be made Warden-Commander? Or would she have stayed at court, stayed inside and stayed away from adventure altogether?

"You _still _love him? Even though he's king now and you can't be together? Even though he dumped you?"

"Hey, hey, wait a second," Lourdes argued, sitting up abruptly in the grass. People had been saying that she had been broken up with by the king? "He didn't dump me. _I _dumped _him._"

"But… _why? _You just said you still love him."

"I… I _do_," she said slowly, picking her words carefully. "Just in a different way. Alistair and I… I don't know. We were great together. But that's passed. He needs to be king and I need to be a Grey Warden."

She felt odd as she said this. For a long time, thoughts of Alistair had plagued her mind nearly constantly. She would occasionally think about him, of course, but it was… different. She felt better about the choices that she made than she had before. For the longest time, she had always been asking herself: did I do the right thing? Should I have stayed with him? But now, she was glad she had stayed Warden-Commander. Driving off darkspawn, commanding men… that was what she was good at.

"I don't think I could do what you did," Anders said slowly.

"Dump Alistair? Now, Anders, I think you'd be strong enough to-"

"Nathaniel was right, it _is_ impossible to talk to someone who uses sarcasm all the time," he said with an exasperated sigh. "I meant that I don't think that I could make that choice. You're a Cousland. You could have been together. You could have been queen. Instead, you chose to risk your life every day."

"No," she said firmly, her fingertips dancing over the tips of the tall grass. It waved beneath her fingers, shuddering slightly from her touch. "I could not have been. I mean… I _could _have, yes, but… I couldn't do it. I couldn't be selfish like that with everyone looking at me in that room. I was tempted. I was going to say that I should rule alongside Alistair, but when I opened my mouth all that came out was that he needed to rule alone."

"So breaking up with him was an accident?"

"I felt bad afterwards, but now I feel like I made the right choice. Even if it had been an accident at the time," she admitted. "I mean, honestly, could you imagine me being a queen?"

"Sure! I mean, well, obviously not with all this gore and dirt on you, but… a bath, a couple hundred glamour charms…"

"Funny," she said, rolling her eyes. Anders sat up in the grass, gently tugging her braid of grass away from her. She let it slide through her fingers without resisting.

"I'm going to ask you another question. No, wait, _two_ more questions," Anders decided, connecting her braid of grass to his. "And I just want you to say 'true' or 'false' as an answer. No explanations. And, no, you _can't _be sarcastic. Is that okay?"

"I have a feeling I'm not going to like your questions. But alright, sure."

"True or false: the king was a virgin when you met him." He was studying her carefully as he worked on connecting the two pieces of braid, trying to see if she would blush or get angry. She did neither.

"True," she said hesitantly. She could see where this was leading: into a world of awkwardness and sex questions. _Goody._

The second question was more carefully worded – Anders seemed hesitant and had to pry each syllable from his mouth. "Alright… true or false: Alistair was not a virgin when he was crowned."

"Also true," she admitted. The blush came now, though it was light. Lourdes was not one for blushing and usually the expansion of blood vessels couldn't be spotted on her dark face, anyway. Now Anders could only see a faint hint of pinkness on the top of her cheek bones.

"Hmm," he said. Anders finished connecting both ends of his braid to hers, forming a little circlet of grass. The mage lifted it and placed it upon her dark hair. "Interesting."

"What about you?" Lourdes questioned, her fingers rising to touch the circlet. She was tempted to tear it off – it reminded her too much of a crown which reminded her of being queen which reminded her of Alistair. "Have you ever done that?"

"Why, _no_, I've never had sex with Alistair. But thank you for asking."

"I meant sex with anyone," she clarified with a laugh, leaning back into the grass again. Technically, she guessed they should be packing up camp and getting a move on – they didn't exactly have time to waste. But the laundry drying in the sun gave them an excuse. Even Grey Wardens needed clean clothing.

"Yes, I have."

"Really? Who?" Lourdes raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Did you _love_ her? Did you want to _marry _her? Did you write her notes and tug her hair?"

He snorted. "Yes, I've had sex before. Thanks for acting surprised."

"Anytime."


	7. Chapter 7: Lourdes the Seamstress

I just wanted to thank everyone that's been reviewing. :) I really appreciate it. I get so excited and nerdy when I get alerted that I've gotten a review. XD Thanks to phoenixandashes, WhoKnowsWho, Shineera and Crimson Rogue. You guys rock!

* * *

Lourdes was irritated. Again. The constant assault of darkspawn always made her irritable, especially when they always left empty threats of leaving her to the _Children. _The grub-like monsters weren't anything terrifying to the warrior – they could be slain and killed and even though they slowed down their journey to the Blackmarsh, they didn't halt it altogether. They merely acted as a momentary inconvenience that could be rectified with some swords shoving into their flesh.

Despite not being terrified by the Children and the darkspawn that were attempting to slow her band of companions down, she was still cautious. Darkspawn were still dangerous, no matter _what_ form they came in. The blood that was leaking out of her swollen nose was a reminder of that fact.

"Why does every talking darkspawn insist on threatening us and then 'leaving us' to the Children?" Lourdes asked in an exasperated voice to no one in particular. "Next time, take your damn _Children_ with you! We're not babysitters!"

Anders snorted as he put his staff on his back, glancing over at Sigrun. The dwarven rogue had received a dislocated shoulder when a strong darkspawn had wrenched it out of its socket. Nathaniel was helping her pop it back into place, scowling as he forced it back into place. "Clever, Lourdes." His tone of voice made it very clear he didn't think it was clever, but corny and childish.

"Thanks. I think you're rubbing off on me," she said, sniffing slightly as she checked to see if her nose was still bleeding. It was. She beckoned Anders over, pointing to her nose. "Hey, do you think you could…?"

Her eyes closed as Anders took her face in his hands, tilting her head up so he could see her possibly-broken nose. "You think I'm clever?" he said, bending it to one side and then to the other. She winced, but it didn't hurt _too _badly – she had only been hit hard and it thankfully had not broken her nose.

"Of course," she said, surprised enough to open her eyes. He was digging around in his robe pocket for something; in a few seconds, he produced a clean rag that he pressed to her nose to stem the bleeding. "You've escaped from the Circle _seven_ times, Anders. You're clever. Most mages don't even try it because they think it's impossible."

"Oh," he said, looking pleased. "Well, thank you. For what it's worth, I think you're clever, too. You wouldn't have been able to save Ferelden otherwise."

"Okay, you're _both_ clever," Nathaniel's impatient voice interrupted their conversation. "Do you think we should wrap her shoulder so it doesn't come out of the socket again, Anders? Or do you want to try and head back towards the Keep? I'm running low on arrows, anyway. Perhaps we should rest and restock and then return to the Blackmarsh tomorrow."

Lourdes considered this. The marsh was mostly cleared out of darkspawn (for now, anyway) except for the ruins of a village they had yet to examine. It would be better to patch their injuries and restock so they could be ready for anything they had to face. "Yes, we should do that," she agreed, tilting her head back in a way that would hopefully stop her bleeding. "Is everyone else okay?"

"I'm fine now," Sigrun said with a nod, rolling her shoulder slightly. She made an uncomfortable face. "It would probably be best if I didn't dual wield my weapons when we return to this place, though."

"Absolutely," Lourdes said absently, her attention captured by movement out of the corner of her eye. Anders was lifting his robe up to his knee, frowning at whatever he saw there. "Anders? Are you alright?"

"What?" he questioned, the robe dropping and his posture straightening. "Oh. Yes, I'm alright. One of those darkspawn tore my robe. I'm upset." He pointed to the hem near the bottom of his robe; a jagged but fixable six-inch tear ran up the material.

Lourdes snorted, shaking her head. "I'll put that on the top of my list of things to fix. Let's go."

The Commander had estimated their journey to the Keep to take a day or so, probably a little less if the weather held up. But, of course, the weather _didn't _stay nice and lovely. (Well, as lovely as it could get in the Blackmarsh.) By the time the afternoon rolled around, the morning's light drizzle of mist had transformed into sheets of rain. Eventually, they could go no further. The ground had turned into a soggy mess and their vision was impaired – not to mention the fact that Lourdes could practically _feel _her armor rusting.

"Alright," she called over the rain, pointing to a nearby jagged cliff. It stretched over a small patch of rough stone, creating a sort of roof that would hopefully shelter them from the rains. "Head to the cliff! We'll stop there until the rain stops!"

The rain did not stop. Night rolled around and they were forced to make a small fire to keep their fingers and toes from freezing. Each of her companions excused themselves to go bear the rain to go to the restroom once, before returning to huddle close to the fire. When Anders returned from his bathroom break, he had changed out of his torn robes and was wearing the plainer, replacement ones he wore when the others were being washed.

He approached her with a hopeful expression and something dangling from between his fingertips. "Hello, my favorite Grey Warden commander _ever_," he said, sitting down on the flat rock next to her. "I was wondering if I might ask for a favor."

"Of course you were," she said, rolling her eyes as she took the object that was offered to her. It was a needle. "What's this? You want me to craft a beautiful ball gown for you?"

"No. I want you to fix my robe," he said with a nod, unfolding his Tevinter robes and showing her the rip that had occurred earlier in the day "It'd be nice if I could walk without feeling a draft."

"You don't know how to sew? Why are you asking _me_ to do this?" She hadn't ever really been good at fixing her own clothing. Again, it had to do with the fact that she had been raised in a castle with her own servants to mend whatever tears and rips happened during training.

"Because you're the only girl here and I figured if there was ever a time to be sexist, it's definitely now."

"What do you mean, I'm the only girl? Sigrun's _right there_. You could have asked her," Lourdes pointed out, but began to line up the edges of the tear anyway. Anders watched carefully as she repaired his robes, stitching up the tear in the tiniest stitches she could manage.

"Uhh. Sigrun looks like she'd cleave me in half if I ever asked her to do my sewing for me."

"Vigil's Keep has a seamstress," Lourdes said after a moment, pulling out a dagger from her boot to cut the thread with. The thread was tied into a knot to prevent the stitches from coming undone when he wore his robes. "You could have just waited a day and asked her to do it for you."

"Are you _joking_?" Anders asked incredulously, taking his robes from her lap. His fingers ran over the barely-noticeable stitches. From the look on his face, he was pleased with how she had fixed the tear. "I don't trust that woman as far as I can throw her. And I'm a mage, so my upper body strength is pretty lacking…"

Lourdes glanced over at his upper body. He was built in a similar way to Alistair – perhaps not _quite _as bulky since he didn't have to wield a sword and shield, but he definitely wasn't the stereotypical skinny mage with his broad chest. "Well, don't tear your robe again… I'm only doing this once. Really, I shouldn't even be doing it in the first place… I'm your commander. I'm supposed to try to appear regal and mighty at least some of the time."

"And what a lovely commander you are," he assured her, leaning back on his palms as she began to carefully stitch up the tear. "I love you for doing this."

Sigrun glanced over at the mage and her commander. "There are only a few hours until morning. If it's all right with you, Lourdes, I can take watch until morning. I don't think I'd get much sleep anyway."

The dwarven rogue was right about that. Their rocky shelter wasn't built for comfort. It wasn't even sufficiently long enough to allow them all to lie down; two, at most, could stretch out on the flat and cold sheet of rock. Lourdes frowned for a moment, sighing as she dug a wad of clothing out from her pack to serve as a pillow. She placed it between the rock wall and her head, not looking forward to sleeping upright.

"I'll sit up. You can lie down," Anders said after a moment, motioning to the rain-free space of rock he had saved for her. As she opened her mouth to argue, he waved her words away with his hand. "No. No arguing. We can't have our leader lacking sleep otherwise the rest of us will be no use."

Lourdes stubbornly stayed vertical, pointing to the free space. "No. You lie down. I'm not taking that spot. I might be your leader, but you're our healer. If Nate gets stabbed in the face tomorrow on our way back to the Keep and you're too tired to heal him, he'll die."

"He wouldn't _die _from being stabbed in the face. He might bleed a little bit, but-"

She snapped her fingers at him, scowling. "Anders. Lie down. That's an order." Lourdes didn't like to play the commander card, but he was being stubborn. She was going to use every ounce of leverage she had to get the mage to lie down. "Now."

Anders grumbled a bit, muttering under his breath about how he hated the Grey Wardens and women and next time he'd just take whatever he could find for himself because Maker knew when he tried to be nice it backfired on him. But he was moving, though, however slow and reluctant his movements were as he stretched out on the rock. "I'm not happy."

Lourdes smiled as she closed her eyes in the near dark. "I know. But I am."

Funnily enough, though, when she awoke she was no longer vertical. Her back and legs and neck were pressed against a rock just as they had been when she had initially gone to sleep, but _now _they were pressed _flat _against a rock. Lourdes sat up immediately, her dark brown hair whipping around her face.

"Where-" she had been about to yell at Anders for moving her during the night, but Nathaniel's fingers wrapped onto her shoulder. He put a finger to his lips, motioning towards her old spot against the cliff.

Anders was resting where she had been the night before, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. Cradled in his lap between his palms was Ser Pounce-a-Lot, looking sleepy and warm as its chest slowly rose and fell.

"Don't wake him yet," Nathaniel said quietly, pushing a bowl of eggs into her lap. Where he had gotten the eggs, Lourdes didn't ask. She was too busy shoveling the soft eggs into her mouth. They were a nice change from the usual hard jerky they ate in the mornings. "I never saw him move as quietly as he did last night. I was sure you were going to wake up and dig your dagger into his side."

Lourdes paused, glancing back at the sleeping Anders. "You watched him? I thought you were asleep."

"Oh, I was. But then Sigrun woke me up because she was too tired to continue watch. A while after I took watch, Anders moved you. His stealth is credible enough when he's actually attempting to be quiet," Nathaniel said, shrugging. "You learn something new about that mage every day."

"Yes," Lourdes agreed, the back of her neck prickling oddly. "You sure do."


	8. Chapter 8: Battle Scars

Despite the absence of rain the second time the Grey Wardens entered the Blackmarsh, it was not a happy trip. The darkspawn they had cut down on their first venture into the marsh seemed to have multiplied in the time it had taken them to return to the Keep and resupply. By the time the small group reached the ruined village for the second time, they were all a little worse for wear. The marsh was humid and was somehow steamy despite the distinct lack of sun in the land.

As Lourdes drank from her water skin, she surveyed the ruins of the village. Maker knew what had ever possessed anyone to want to live in the very spot she was stepping on now. The abandoned ruins had probably once been some sort of village that was happy and flourished – she could see remains of toys scattered around in one corner of a house. When the group had wiped some humidity from their skin and replenished their bodies' water supplies, they began to cautiously move into the village.

"Stay alert," Lourdes reminded them softly, but it wasn't really necessary. They were all alert anyway, their eyes moving quickly from ruined building to ruined building as they searched for any kind of movement in the shadows.

In one of these ruins was a chest that was sealed well by a sturdy lock. Nathaniel worked quickly and efficiently to open it and quickly sifted through it looking for the more obvious valuable objects or keys they might need later. He found none and as Sigrun called for him to help her open the lock on another chest further away, Lourdes inspected the contents of the chest more closely.

They were some sort of documents, but she couldn't precisely tell _what. _They were out of order and the pages were ruffled and slightly damp. It seemed to be a series of names. Maybe occupants of the ruined village? A small black book was buried in the bottom of the chest. It had been wrapped in papers carefully, almost as if the person who put it there had seen the end coming and had left these shadows of life behind. Lourdes could practically _see _a man sealing away what he hoped would act as clues when someone came to excavate his home.

What she couldn't see was the werewolf tainted with the Blight that lunged from the old entry way of the house. She had been too busy looking at the stupid book to realize that the rest of her party had moved on to inspect the other houses and evidently hadn't realized she had lingered. The Commander was pulled away – no, more accurately would be _ripped _away – from her inspection of the book as the wolf's claws dragged across her back and tipped her onto her side.

She hadn't screamed when she had broken her leg as a child, but she was screaming _now_, lashing out as the monster fought to get a good bite at her with its teeth. Lourdes rolled away from its flashing claws and snapping jaw, very aware of the pain that was shooting through her body. But she had not become the Warden-Commander because she gave up and passed out when things got scary.

Besides, as she had told herself regularly whenever she faced an intimidating foe – _she had slain the Archdemon_. What was a werewolf to her?

Lurching to her feet, Lourdes easily located a way out of the ruined house. Though the werewolf was blocking the entry way, that hardly mattered. There was no roof and only one wall was complete, so there were gateways outside everywhere. She saw a small piece of wall that she might be able to leap over and into the open marsh where it would be easier to fight. She lunged quickly, hoping that there would be enough space between her and the werewolf so she could effectively get out of this deathtrap of a house.

It was easier thought than done.

The werewolf wasn't slow and he wasn't stupid. His body crashed into hers as she ran for the wall opening, knocking her to the ruined floor of the house. "Get – off – _of me!_" she screamed at the werewolf, driving her dagger into its body. The werewolf snarled and its long claws made contact with the front of her armor. She would have shoved her sword into its body as well, but the heavy werewolf's weight kept the weapon pressed between her body and his.

"Lourdes?!" It was Nathaniel she heard first – she imagined her initial horrific screams of surprise and pain were what made him run so fast towards her. _Now_ it was the werewolf screaming in pain as she twisted her dagger in its body. "Sigrun! To your left! Anders – get over here!"

Sigrun was there suddenly, slashing and tackling and muttering with all of the life she had in her. Anders was standing near Nathaniel, who was notching an arrow and launching it into the skin of the werewolf that was attacking her. The mage, himself, was gesturing like crazy, a sizzling bit of fire shooting towards the monster.

The smell of burnt hair and roasted flesh filled her nostrils, the heat from the flames was making the air around her hazy, and the smoke resulting from the werewolf's burning body was clouding her vision.

"Get – _off – _of me!" she screamed at the monster again, finally able to pull her sword out properly as he lurched off of her, snarling and howling in pain as he briefly whirled in Nathaniel's direction. Lourdes scowled, plunging her sword into his side and then pulling it out. He turned as she was getting ready to thrust her weapon into him again, swiping at her with a giant paw. His claws caught on a piece of her armor, hooking over a lip and effectively throwing her to the ground. Lourdes gasped, the wind completely knocked out of her when she forcefully collided with the muddy terrain.

"Lourdes! Hold still! I'm casting – " The rest of Anders' words were lost in the sound of the werewolf crying out as another one of Nathaniel's arrows was embedded into his body. _Hold still, hold still, hold still. _Anders' words played over and over in her mind, rooting her to the spot even as the werewolf's claws connected with her skin. She had folded her arms over the back of her neck as she lay upon the ground, trying to keep him from cutting open the base of her skull. Pain lanced through her when the sharp claws of her attacker connected first with the top of her hand and part of her uncovered cheek. But she held still, because she knew when Anders told her to hold still, it meant someone was about to be killed. Or, in this case, some_thing._

There was a brief flash of a bluish white light and more sizzling and smoking. She couldn't see, momentarily blinded because she had been stupid enough to look at the werewolf as the electricity was coursing through his body. Black blobs swam before her eyes, turning ridiculous colors of red, pink, and yellow… and Lourdes found herself trying to pick herself up, trying to get out of the way so she could be useful and fight, but her body wasn't responding correctly. _Where… where are my friends… where is Anders… I can't… I can't… where…_

The blackness of unconsciousness was welcome.

She woke briefly as she was being carried… somewhere. Over someone's shoulder, so her shredded back wouldn't be pressing against an arm. "Is… is everyone…" she began to say, but her tongue was dry and heavy and it wouldn't respond correctly. Her carrier – Nathaniel, it was, the black hair should have been a dead give away – sounded surprised.

"Everyone is fine, Lourdes," he said quietly. "Rest. I'm surprised you're still conscious."

But he was wrong; she wasn't conscious anymore. As soon as he had said _everyone is fine _she was back into the blackness.

Unfortunately, the blackness couldn't last forever. The next time she awoke, a blinding pain seared through her back and her cheek and the back of her left arm. "Ahhh-hh," she moaned, pressing her face into a pillow. She had been smartly laid down on her stomach, so her back was exposed as someone worked to remove her blood spattered armor.

"Don't move," someone warned as she had struggled to do just that. It didn't take long for Lourdes to recognize the voice – Sigrun was the only woman she had brought with her on their trip to the Blackmarsh. "I know you're in pain and you passed out from loss of blood, but you're safe in camp now. Anders will be in here soon to heal you."

"Why isn't he here _now_?" Lourdes asked, her mind foggy and cloudy with pain as the rogue extracted piece after piece of armor from her body. She still had a tunic and pants on underneath, of course, but Sigrun was working on removing the shredded remnants of her shirt. Lourdes was about to protest – that was her _shirt _she was taking off – but she realized it was stupid. Her armor had been pulled to pieces – Maker knew what state her tunic was now in.

A short snort came from somewhere over her left shoulder as Sigrun peeled away the tattered strips of clothing. "He's scared of seeing girls naked, apparently. Which, well, you _aren't, _by the way, don't worry. I'm leaving your pants on."

"But…" she began to say, and then trailed off as her shirt was carefully cut from her body by Sigrun. Her back felt better without the weight of her light armor on it, but pain still shot through her body. _But… but I need Anders. I need his healing spells and his laugh and I need him and his stupid jokes and I really, really want him to get in here and help me and be with me._

Anders only came into the tent when he had been assured by Sigrun that every bit of female flesh was covered. And it was, too; the dwarf wasn't lying to him. Lourdes' pants were on, with a blanket pulled up to her hips. Though she was without a shirt, her chest and stomach were pressed against the bedroll, which was about as modest as Anders was going to get.

"Hello," he said, his voice sounding strained and not very Anders like.

"Are… you okay?" Lourdes asked, struggling to keep conscious as the pain refused to be ignored.

There was the sound of clinking behind her. Lourdes did not like being unable to see. But she imagined Anders was pulling things from his small satchel of healing supplies and bandages.

"What? You're the one with… have you _seen _your back?" he questioned incredulously. "And you're asking _me _if I'm alright?"

"You sound - sound odd," she explained, wincing as he began to pour the burning potion into her wounds that would get rid of any debris, dirt, and disease that had worked its way into her wounds.

"Because you were nearly _killed_, Lourdes. You should have heard yourself scream, I – I thought you were _dead_. I was scared. I mean, what was I going to do without my commander? We're all just chickens with our heads cut off without you to direct us."

"Don't be melodramatic," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut as he began to run a needle through her skin to pull it back together. Anders was a good healer, but even he couldn't magically make skin grow back together at the snap of his fingers. Lourdes wished he could – the odd sensation of her skin being pricked and tugged on was not pleasant and made her a little nauseous.

When her skin had been sewn together again, a cool sensation spread over her back. She smiled in relief as the pain started to fade a little. Anders switched out one salve for another, thoroughly coating her wounds in various balms. He paused for a moment, before his fingers trailed down to coat the cuts on the sides of her ribs. "Maker, Lourdes, you sure know how to get yourself hurt. You're lucky you're so good at surviving."

"Everyone thinks I'm good at surviving," she said quietly, pressing her uninjured cheek against her pillow. "Why does no one ever consider that I might just be really, really horrible at dying?"

"I think they find it hard to believe that the Warden-Commander could be horrible at anything. People forget you're human," Anders said. Though she could not see him shrug, he did anyway. And then he cleared his throat, pausing in his work. "Could you, er, move your hair?"

She moved up, brushing her hair off of her neck and to the side of her face that didn't have angry red stripes running along the length of it. Her hair wasn't that long, barely touching her throat, but she swept it away from her cheek anyway as Anders smoothed the balm over the scratches. Lourdes flinched; the balm stung slightly as it made contact with her skin.

"Sorry."

"It's alright."

When Anders was finished covering what seemed like every inch of her in balm, he crouched in her tent and gathered his supplies. "I'm going to go look at Sigrun's shoulder again. Tell me if it starts to itch or burn or anything. Or if you're dead – you definitely might want to tell us if that happens."

She snorted. "Yeah, alright, I'll make sure you alert you if I die. Tell Sigrun that I wanted to thank her for, er… helping me with my armor."

"I don't even want to know about how _that _went," Anders said with a short laugh. He paused before he left her tent. "We're not heading back to the Keep until your back doesn't look like… well, like it does. Try to rest, alright?"

Lourdes shrugged, making no such promises. She wasn't good at resting. She wasn't good at being sick or being idle or being the weak one in the group. "Thanks," she added after a moment. "I feel better."

"Well, I could hardly make you feel _worse_," he told her. "Maybe if I stabbed you with something coated in acid. But you're welcome. Rest, Commander. Or I'll get Nathaniel in here to talk to you about the different kinds of lock picks. _That'll _knock you right out, trust me."

She was smiling as he left, but she _wasn'_t smiling the next morning. She was hot and irritable and nobody would let her get up and do anything. Lourdes had tried to rise from her spot once, but the thick scabs on her back had cracked open and the fresh blood on her wounds had been a giant 'I tried to get up!' sign waving in Anders' face. The chewing out he had simultaneously made her even crankier and made her thoughts of getting up and leaving her tent vanish.

Eventually, of course, she _had_ to leave her tent to use the restroom. In these cases she would clear her throat and Sigrun would be there, offering her friend Anders' spare robe to wear. The first time the dwarven woman had done this, Lourdes had just stared at her. "Um, I think you're confusing me for someone else. I'm Lourdes, not Anders," she said, frowning as Sigrun sighed. "Notice the female parts?"

"I realize_ that_, but you can wear this backwards. Put your arms through the sleeves and the part that's normally the front can stay open as you leave the tent," Sigrun explained. Lourdes had nodded, sitting up with a pulling sensation on her skin as she did so. She shoved her hands through the long sleeves of his robes, the front panels that normally buttoned up in the front now hanging open around her back.

"Smart," Lourdes admitted. She imagined she looked a bit stupid, but at least she was covered without having to pull a tunic over the wounds of her back. "Thank you."

Sigrun scowled as they left her tent, the fresh air and wind washing over Lourdes' face. "Your back looks worse in the sunlight," the dwarf informed her. "Better than yesterday, though. Anders is doing a good job."

The rogue made sure to keep Lourdes informed about the rate at which her back was healing, even when the Wardens finally made it back to Vigil's Keep. The journey had been slow despite the sunny weather, so by the time the Commander made it into the infirmary of the Keep, it was already dark outside and most members of the Keep were asleep. A few stray guards came by to check how their Commander was doing.

"I'm _fine_," she insisted. "Honestly. I'm fine."

And she _was _fine. Her back hurt still, as did the scrapes across her cheek, but she wasn't dying and she didn't appreciate how people kept treating her like she was. Had they all forgotten that she had slain the Archdemon, dueled Loghain and _won_, and killed hundreds of darkspawn and at_ least_ one dragon in her journeys?

"I feel like I should write all of this down and carry around a list with me," she told Nathaniel one day as he visited her in the infirmary. "Just so I can whip it out whenever people insist on asking me if I'm alright. I've been in bed for three days and I'm going _mad_, Nate."

He shrugged, thumbing over some documents he had brought with him. "At least Anders is letting you sit up now. I thought you would be forced to lie on your stomach for a week or two, which would have made you even more irritable than you are now."

"I'm not irritable."

He ignored her, acting like he hadn't heard her speak. "I have something to make you less cantankerous, however. A guest has arrived at the Keep this morning and apparently has come to see you after hearing you were injured. One of your old companions, I think she said she was."

Lourdes' eyes widened. "One of my old companions? _Who?_ Which one? Can I see her? Where is she?" she called after Nathaniel, who had disappeared from the infirmary already. Who was it that had visited her? Leliana, maybe? It wasn't likely to be Shale, even though she had been a woman at one point in her life, wasn't likely to be taken for a female golem. What if it was _Morrigan? _Her heart jumped into her throat. What if she had Alistair's child with her? Surely there would have been sufficient time between that dark night and now for her to have a child…

It wasn't Morrigan. In fact, her visitor was the _exact opposite _of Morrigan. Where the young woman had jet black hair and smooth skin, her visitor had silvery white strands of hair and wrinkles around her mouth and eyes.

"Wynne?" Lourdes said in surprise as the elder mage smiled and glided to a chair.

"Hello," she said, her eyes skimming across the pink lines that marred Lourdes' face. "I heard the Warden-Commander was injured, so I decided to take the trip from Amaranthine to see if I could help treat you. How are you faring? Much better than I expected. There were rumors that you had fought off a horde of werewolves by yourself."

"Oh, er, no. It was just the one werewolf. And I'm not deadly hurt like everyone seems to be thinking, so I'm not sure if you'd really need to heal anything. You can look at my back, though, if you'd like. It doesn't hurt much anymore."

Her shirt was lifted as she turned around, hugging her pillow to her chest in case Nathaniel decided to pop back into the room. Wynne's fingers gently ran over the wounds, looking pleased as she tugged Lourdes' shirt back down over her back. "It looks very nice. Can I ask who did this? It's exceptional work."

"That, my dear woman, would be me," Anders had entered the infirmary, his arms full of bandages and small herbs for the chest in the corner. He glanced at Wynne as he tucked the goodies into the stockpile. "Sorry if I don't stay to chat. Since _apparently_ no Wardens can leave and seek out quests that need done without their Warden-Commander, we're all stuck here running errands."

It sounded as if he was as irritable and bored as she was. She smiled slightly at the crease that appeared in his forehead as he gave Wynne a quick and surprisingly not sarcastic bow. He exited the room as quickly as he had entered it.

"I remember him from the Circle," Wynne said after he had left. "He reminds me of Alistair when I first met him. The demeanor is similar, but of course there are differences. Alistair needed more reassurance before acting. Anders seems to be able to strike his own path without hesitation."

"Which isn't always a good thing. He's an apostate, you know."

"Yes, I know," she assured her. "I remember quite vividly the stir he caused at the Tower on his first escape. Still, sometimes it's better to not ask permission and do something than it would be to ask for permission and not do it. Alistair was like that at first, which is why I think you two got along so well. You were always there to reaffirm his choices."

"He's the king – he has a whole _board_ of advisors to tell him what he's doing is fine."

"That is true. But… Lourdes, he still needs _you_. Just in a different way. You've both moved on to different stages in your life and I wish you wouldn't forget your past so readily."

"I haven't forgotten," she assured her. Alistair had once been a near-constant thought in her mind. But _once _was not _now. _She rarely thought of Alistair and when she did, it was in a different way than it had been before. "I could never forget him. Or you."

"Good. I am glad. However, I think I will leave you to rest and recover. Perhaps I will seek out Anders and discuss which magic he used on your back. It is healing nicely. Scars won't be likely. Though I doubt you're concerned with your appearance."

Lourdes thought of Anders. "Oh, er, well. I'm glad it won't scar."


	9. Chapter 9: Choices, Choices

To quote Professor Farnsworth... GOOD NEWS, EVERYONE. now gives you the ability to add Anders as a character when searching for stories to read. (Haha I was the one who requested it.) So go write some Anders fics! Really! Do it!

**Also. Andersfans. If you haven't done it already, **go to Amaranthine with Anders in your party. There's a tree on the left side of the city when you come in, before the gate. When you press tab, a title will hover over it. You can initiate dialogue with Anders at this tree! **And it is worth it.** How worth it?

**tinyurl. com /anders1337**

_Squee. _Listen to him _talk._

* * *

A thought occurred to Lourdes one day as she was staring up at the high ceilings of the infirmary. This was Vigil's Keep. And she was the Warden-Commander. _She was the Warden-Commander. _Anders kept insisting that she stay in bed even though her back was nearly healed, but _she_ was _his_ commander. She sat up in bed, rolling her shoulders to make sure the thin remainders of her fight wouldn't crack open and leak blood everywhere.

Once she was sure she wasn't bleeding everywhere, she stood from her bed and removed her shirt with a quick tug. A clean and patterned one was put on in its place before she exited the infirmary…

… and was immediately stopped by a _guard._

"Sorry, Commander, I'm not supposed to let you leave," he mumbled, rising from the chair that he had been tipping back onto two legs. He was young looking… so Lourdes scowled, standing as straight as possible as she attempted to intimidate him.

"Excuse _me_?" she questioned, her best commander voice coming forward. She could be authoritative when she wanted to be – otherwise she never would have saved Ferelden without Morrigan and Alistair getting into a fight or leaving or worse. "I'm your_ commander_. Whose orders outrank mine? Is the king here?"

"No, my lady."

"Then who gave you the orders?" she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest. Lourdes tried not to shudder – the motion caused her skin to pull tight and gave her an odd sensation. It wasn't painful, just unpleasant and definitely something she could tolerate if it meant getting back to actually _doing _something.

The guard mumbled something and stared down at his foot as his boot scuffed the floor idly. It was vague and barely able to be heard, but he had said it _just _loudly enough.

"Alright. Thank you. You can stop guarding the infirmary," she told the guard as she set off down the hallway with purpose in her strides. Her target had been named, so she was making haste towards his quarters. As she walked, her mind was already forming angry questions for him. _How _dare _you try to keep me in there. I'm the Warden-Commander. I'm _your _Warden-Commander. I-_

Her thoughts were interrupted as she rounded the corner, tripping over something on the floor. An ear-splitting screech and a blur shooting away from her made her accidental victim easy to identify: Ser Pounce-a-lot. The tabby was hissing as he twined himself around the feet of a suit of armor, looking wounded and offended.

"_What _in Andraste's knickerweasels are you _doing-_" Anders was in sight now, coming out of his room to investigate the cause of his cat's distress. Upon seeing Lourdes standing in the corridor out of his quarters, his eyebrows raised. "What are you doing up?"

"What are _you _doing telling guards to keep me in the infirmary?"

"Well, obviously it didn't work very well if you're stepping on my cat. I threatened to turn that guard into a toad if he didn't watch you… and now I'm going to have to learn a spell so I can follow up on that threat. See what inconvenience you've caused me?"

She ignored his humor, not amused in the slightest. It irritated her that he had thought she needed a _guard_ telling her to stay in the infirmary. It wasn't that she wasn't touched by his concern; it was that her wounds were very nearly fully healed and was seemingly refusing to acknowledge this.

"I don't need a nurse coddling me, Anders. I'm perfectly fine."

"Perfectly fine? Oh, excuse me. I didn't realize you've studied healing magic," Anders began sarcastically, scowling at her. It occurred to her that she had never seen Anders angry. Passionate, maybe, when he was talking about something that was important to him. Irritated, like he often became when he talked to Nathaniel or the night that she had refused to take the sleeping spot on the rock. But never full blown _angry._ "Oh, wait, _no_, that's _me, _isn't it? Right. I'm the guy who tells people when they're fine and when they're not fine. Not you."

"And I'm the Warden-Commander. I'm in charge," she reminded him. "So when I _tell _you to let me leave the castle, it's also an _order._"

He didn't speak for a good minute or two, his eyes shooting daggers at her. She didn't back down, glaring right back at him with her own brown eyes. "_Fine,_" he muttered, looking less angry but still very irritated at her. He jerked his head towards his quarters, opening his door for her. "But let me see. And if you get blood all over my things, I swear I'll never forgive you."

Lourdes snorted, amazed at how he could still joke even when his expression still clearly said _I am not happy with you right now._ "Right," she said. His quarters were small but decorated just as she had thought they would be. As he shut his door firmly – apparently it was a little hard to wedge back into its frame – she inspected his room.

His bed was small and pushed up against a wall, but it was nice enough. There were various hooks on the wall which held various robes and – she smiled – the scarf she had given him. A small bookcase was shoved into one corner and although it didn't have a lot of books upon it, the collection was obviously hand picked. There were a lot of books about Ferelden and phylacteries, as well as several books about the study of magic.

"I've got to stay sharp," he explained, noticing her gaze upon the tomes of both the theory and practice of magic. As she faced the bookcase, he slowly lifted the back of her shirt. Lourdes tried to focus on the various kinds of earrings and cat toys he had scattered among the books. It was sort of hard, though, because his fingertips were slowly brushing over her back and the side of her ribs to inspect the healing process.

Her breath hitched, her body reminded of Alistair and how she had last been kissed by the king over a year and a half ago.

"Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?" Anders questioned, pulling her shirt back down over her injuries. Lourdes turned, the unexpected lurch in her chest as she faced him throwing her off. "Lourdes?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, you didn't."

The shaking of her head attracted his gaze to her cheek. She lifted her hand, her own fingers brushing upon the thin and slightly raised lines that ran parallel to her jaw. "How are those?" Anders questioned, pulling her wrist away from her face. "Do they hurt?"

"No."

He didn't seem to believe her, for whatever reason. Probably because she would have said no even if they _had _hurt – which they didn't. They were small and barely noticeable if you weren't looking for them. Wynne had given her a balm to put on them and assured her that their pink color would fade within the year.

Anders used one hand to tilt her chin upward, the other passing smoothly along her cheek. "Well, they don't look too bad. I mean, they _are _on your face, but you can hardly hold _that _against them…"

Despite his words, she couldn't help but notice how he took his time inspecting her cheek, carefully turning her head this way and that as he cradled it in his hands. Lourdes raised her eyebrows after a minute or two, clearing her throat. "Am I alright?"

He dropped his hands instantly, turning to straighten some books on his shelf. "Yes. Sorry. I thought I saw hints of an infection. But I didn't. You'll live."

"Good," she said after a moment, trying to open the door to his room so she could leave. But the wooden door was stuck in its frame, groaning slightly as she tried to throw her weight against it to make it open. It didn't work. With a frustrated sigh, she turned to Anders. "Do you want this fixed?"

"What? Oh. No. It's fine. I can tolerate it. After dealing with templars for nearly ten years, I'm sure a stuck door faces no chance against a mage of my skill," he said, going to gently twist the handle one way and then another. The door opened smoothly. "I didn't even have to threaten to turn it into a toad."

"Speaking of turning things into toads – you should find that guard and apologize. It was a waste of his time to guard the infirmary. I'm sure he would have rather been doing something important."

Anders laughed, shutting the door behind him without any difficulty. Obviously, he was a master at manipulating the stubborn entryway. "Are you _joking? _He was _thrilled _to be the one chosen to guard the Commander. I gave him a reason to live. Several guards volunteered, actually – they adore you for some reason. I'm thinking there might be some lyrium in the water that has addled their brains."

She opened her mouth to reply, but a messenger came dashing towards them. "Warden-Commander!" he puffed, doubling over. "I've been looking – for you – not in the infirmary-"

Lourdes caught the man's arm. "Are you alright? What's going on? What's happened?"

"Darkspawn-" he gasped, his round stomach fluttering in and out as he worked to catch his breath. She recognized the man, vaguely. He was one of the older messengers, rarely used unless messages were being urgently sent somewhere else. A sense of foreboding washed over Lourdes. "Attacking the city! Go – speak to Seneschal Varel –quickly!"

They ran.

Seneschal Varel was barking orders to guards and soldiers as she entered the room, trying to keep order in the chaotic room full of nobles, soldiers, and the occasional odd commoner. "Commander! Your recovery is just in time."

He went on to explain how darkspawn were battling the city's guards, burning and entering the city like there was no tomorrow. And there _wouldn't _be a tomorrow for the citizens of the city if someone didn't go and stop them right away. Of course, her being the Warden-Commander, this meant her. She nodded grimly as Sigrun offered to be part of the team that went to help the city.

"Nathaniel," she began, clearing her throat. He looked up from where he had been tightening his bow's string. "This is your chance for redemption. Will you take it?"

"Of course," he said, pausing. "It's dangerous, idiotic, and possibly suicidal. But… but I know you, Lourdes. I thought only a fool would believe the rumors about what you've done. But I've fought with you and I know that they're all true. You always beat the odds."

She smiled slightly. She had faced death like this before, going through the city of Denerim to weed out the darkspawn generals. What were the odds that anyone she took with her would come out alive? Luck had been on her side _once_, but would it be on her side again? She doubted it. So as her eyes passed over her companions, she carefully decided which to take with her.

"Oghren," she said, her voice sounding odd as it squeezed back her closing throat. "I need you. Will you come-"

"_What?_" her words seemed to have finally reached Anders' ears. He looked at her, stunned. The anger she had seen on his face when he had found her up from her bed was nothing compared to what was flashing across his face _now. _The mage looked hurt and angry and about to chew her head off. "_What? _You're – you're taking _him?_ What about me? I can _go_, Lourdes."

"No. I don't want you to go," she said firmly. "Stay here."

"No," he said, his voice mimicking her firm tone. "No… _no. _I'm going, Lourdes."

She was vaguely aware of eyes on her and the mage as they bickered, so she sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples as she tried to think. "Excuse us to the hallway for a moment, Varel. I'll be right back, I promise. Assemble what soldiers you can until I return. Tell Wade I will reimburse him for any remaining armor and weapons he might be able to dig up."

"Yes, Commander. Make haste."

Anders was close to her heels as she walked down the hallways of the Keep. She had only intended to speak to him outside of the throne room, but it had occurred to her that she should probably put her armor on. So she headed to the armory, where her armor had been being repaired.

And Anders was hissing at her the entire way, scowling and ranting. "_I'm going with you. _You can't make me stay. Don't think for one minute that I'm going to stay here while you're out there. This is stupid. You can't order me to stay – I'll sneak out. I've escaped from the Circle _seven times_. I don't think this keep would hold me in very well."

She spoke as calmly as she could as she collected the pieces of her newly-repaired armor, putting the different sections onto her body. Lourdes almost sighed when she was finished – she had forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by metal. "Anders. Stay here. You are needed here."

"No, I'm _not_. When someone gets hurt at Amaranthine, who do you think will heal them? I haven't exactly seen Oghren opening a damn spell book any time soon! You're being stupid and reckless and it's ridiculous. The rumors that you're invincible aren't true. I think you're forgetting that. You almost died from blood loss. From _blood loss_, Lourdes! That's generally one of those things that's _avoidable_!"

She frowned at him. It was stupid for her to go without a mage – maybe she would ask Velanna to come along. She wasn't as skilled of a healer as Anders was, but she would have to do. "No, it isn't. Not when you're Warden-Commander, Anders. People look to me to-"

"To _what? _To die for them? Really? Is _that_ what they look to you for? Because I thought they looked to you for smart decisions, not stupid ones," he fumed. "You can't do this. I'll follow you, Lourdes."

He was still insisting that he couldn't be contained within the keep as they returned to the Throne Room, drawing stares as Anders continued to be very, very vocal with his opinions on what she should be doing.

"Have you come to a… a decision, Commander?" Seneschal Varel questioned, eying Anders carefully. "Who will be your third party member?"

Her reply was instant and cold sounding, even to her ears. She had once been accused of being a poor liar when she really needed to do it – which was the chief reason that Anora hadn't believed her when Lourdes claimed she would support her – but her voice came out calm and smooth. "Velanna. I need you to-"

"No," It was not Anders that interrupted, as she expected him to. It was Velanna. The elf woman glanced towards Anders, before slowly shaking her head from left to right. "No. I am refusing. I will not accompany you to Amaranthine. I refuse your invitation."

"It wasn't exactly an _invitation_," Lourdes said, shock appearing on her face at her friend's protest. "It was an order."

"Then might I suggest you order someone else. Commander."

She turned to Justice, feeling fear rise up in her. "Justice," she began, her voice cracking slightly. "Stand with me. Destroy the darkspawn. You will get vengeance; you will get atonement for Kristoff. Please, Justice, fight with me."

He paused, looking hesitant. "I… I am conflicted," he admitted. "I would… I would like to accompany you to the city. Fighting darkspawn would be the perfect way to get vengeance for Aura and Kristoff. And yet my head tells me this is not right. You require a mage in case you get injured and Velanna is refusing. You must take Anders."

"Fine. Stay. Oghren, then," she said, getting desperate. "Oghren. Come with me. Fight with me. You were at Denerim and you are more than capable of destroying darkspawn. Come with me, Oghren."

"I don't know," he said, shrugging as he gripped his axe with more force than was entirely necessary. "This screams sodding stupidity to me. Take the mage with you."

And she reluctantly did, only because no one else would come.

Lourdes felt stupid and angry as they walked in solemn silence to Amaranthine. She shouldn't be so upset over having him accompany her. He was her _friend_, he was _supposed _to want to fight and come with her. But she felt… odd. She didn't want him out there. She didn't want him to be in the path of danger. She didn't want him to be there at all. The Keep was a much safer place for him, where the darkspawn weren't attacking.

Her concern for him made him wonder why she wasn't so concerned over Velanna or Justice. Or even Oghren, who she had known longer than both of them. It didn't make any sense. She felt like hitting herself, but settled with driving her blades into darkspawn after darkspawn as they cleared the gates of Amaranthine of monsters.

And when the choice had to be made – defend the city or defend the Keep, she had to turn her attention from her confusing feelings (that had the worst timing possible) to a decision. "Defend the city," she said after a moment. Lourdes pictured those she had left behind at Vigil's Keep. "We have been rebuilding the Keep and I'm confident it will not be so easily dispatched. I trust those that are protecting it."

"Very well."

She wasn't regretting her decision as they worked to eradicate the city of darkspawn. Vigil's Keep was a single Keep – it stood for something, of course, and it was the home of the Grey Wardens, but did it really out value an entire city? Lourdes didn't think so. But as they came back from the smuggler's cove where the darkspawn had been pouring in from, she looked to her group for reassurance about the Keep's situation. The little amount of news sent about the Keep wasn't good.

"We did the right thing, didn't we?"

Three automatic nods. She sighed. "Well, let's get on with it. The Mother isn't going to wait forever. The sooner we get this over with, the better." Lourdes appeared confident on the outside, radiating a _this is just another darkspawn _vibe to her companions. On the inside, she wasn't so sure. This could very be well end up being the ending point of her life or Anders' life or Nathaniel's life or Sigrun's.

This occurred to her on their way to the Broodmother's lair and she slowly pried words from her mouth. "I just wanted to say thanks to all of you. I haven't met very many Grey Wardens. In fact, it was mostly just the two that I knew… But you've made me believe that the Wardens can be rebuilt. I'm very glad you're fighting here, by my side. I don't know what's going to happen, but… thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Sigrun said, her tattooed face stretching into a grim smile. "It was _you_ that recruited_ me_ into the Grey Wardens."

"And you recruited me, too, though you very well could have put me to death," Nathaniel reminded her. "You're vexing and irritating and I thought I would hate you because you forced me to do it, but… thank you. I've quite enjoyed my time as a Warden."

"And you sort of forced me into this, but I appreciate it anyway," Anders assured her. "Without you, I would probably be dead or locked up in the Tower again. I… I just want to thank you. Really. I appreciate everything you've done. And you've done a lot. Everywhere you go, it seems like you give something to people and I think that's amazingly kind of you. A little irritating, sometimes, because you're sarcastic when you're giving our gold away to phony beggars, but… endearing anyway."

Lourdes smiled. "If you die," she said unsteadily. "I will never forgive you."

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. "Noted."

* * *

I always loved the end of Baldur's Gate II: Shadows of Amn when you had discussions with your companions. You could thank them and tell them that it wasn't their fight and I thought it was a nice touch. After all, they had come so far. I was kind of disappointed that Dragon Age didn't have similar conversations available at the end of Awakening. So this is the lovey dovey touchy feely stuff. :)

This is also where Lourdes realizes that _hey_, Anders is touching her. And _hey_, um, why is she feeling so protective of him? Weird! But _hey_, there are some darkspawn to kill so um let's go do that and ignore the feelings!

I'm not entirely sure of how I approached the realization of her feelings. I'm kind of wary how this chapter was written. Tell me what you thinkkk.


	10. Chapter 10: Sheer Dumb Luck

Uhhhm if you're squeamish you might want to skip this battle.

* * *

Stairs. Lourdes hated them. They were tricky enough to go down in completely normal condition – descending a series of spiral staircases _while battling darkspawn _was enough to make the Cousland decide that if she ever had a house of her own, she would build it all one level. No stairs. Just a long and flat house.

And at the end of one of these staircases was… the Architect. He had proposed an alliance of darkspawn and Grey Warden to stop the Blight. "You want _us _to help _you? _After you _experimented on us _and_ killed_ our fellow Wardens?" Lourdes asked incredulously, drawing her sword.

But… then a funny thing happened.

The drawing of her sword was a much too familiar feeling. Her muscles did it automatically, like breathing or pumping her heart. It seemed like she had been doing it nearly constantly since being rescued from her home by Duncan that fateful night. Her life had been one big mess of fighting and blood and recovering… did she want that for someone else? How could she ask someone to step up ten years from now, a hundred years from now, and ask them to sacrifice the same things she had? She… _couldn't_.

So Lourdes sheathed her sword. "I… I don't think this is the best idea I've ever agreed to," she said slowly. "But I don't – _we _don't – need to continue this endless cycle of fighting forever and always. I would sacrifice my blood if it meant others didn't even have to know this path."

"I cannot say I agree with this idea," Nathaniel confessed, frowning. "But… I will go with whatever you choose, Commander. I may not like it, but I will follow and hope that what you choose doesn't come back to haunt us in the future."

"We can't even know if he's telling the truth!" Sigrun protested, her expression changing into a fierce and dangerous one. "He's a _darkspawn_, Lourdes! What if we trust him and he betrays us?"

"Then we kill him," she said simply. "We give him time. If he doesn't follow through with what he's said, he will die. But… not here, Sigrun. Not today. We came here for the Mother. We won't leave with her still plaguing this world. If he can offer us any assistance, any at all, we should take it. Leave this fight for another day. I promise you, if he steps out of line, you can be the one to drive the sword into his heart."

The dwarven warrior shifted, looking irritated but less violent than before. "Alright. I hope you don't regret this," she said slowly, shaking her head. "Just remember not everyone is going to agree with this. I don't think the Orlesian Wardens will be chipper and perky when they hear about this."

"Neither do I," said Anders, finally speaking up. "But… if we explain to them that the cycle can be stopped and that another Blight can be prevented, they should understand. And if they don't… well. I don't know. We can throw rocks at them."

Lourdes felt herself smiling despite herself, slowly turning back to the Architect. "I'm not sure I believe you," she told him. "But I want to eradicate the Mother today, not kill the, er… darkspawn that might have the key to stopping the Blights."

She felt confident about her decision. That was, she felt confident right up to the moment that they entered the Mother's lair and the broodmother revealed that the Architect's attempt at making Urthemiel into a Disciple led to the Fifth Blight. She was angry then, angry that he hadn't revealed this little piece of knowledge _before _they made their choice to side with him. He was clever and tricky and his morals and values were obviously very, very different from hers. Maybe he _would_ have to die.

But right now, it was the Mother's turn.

It was one of the hardest battles of the Warden-Commander's life. There were darkspawn Children pouring into the room, with the Mother snatching up members of her party like a baby snatching up toys. She wrapped around Sigrun, shaking the dwarf like a rag doll. There was a horrible crunching sound – ribs. The dwarf did not scream as her ribs were cracked and broken, merely clenched her teeth together and drove her dagger deep into the Mother's body.

"Hold on!" Lourdes told the rogue, driving her boot into the face of one of the Children. There was a sickening squishing, with blood gurgling over her shoe. She removed her sword from the body, sprinting towards Sigrun.

Her running path was obscured by another influx of Children, one of them knocking her balance off and causing her to crash into the floor. "Nathaniel! Help Sigrun!" Lourdes yelled through clenched teeth, rolling to her feet and plunging her dagger into one of the Children. "_Hurry!_"

There was a series of whistling sounds as Nathaniel notched arrow after arrow, launching a succession of projectiles into the Mother. She flinched as one embedded deep into her shoulder, her hold on Sigrun weakening. The dwarf slumped to the floor.

"Get her away!" Nathaniel yelled, switching his bow out for a set of twin daggers he had picked up in a market. He wasn't skilled with them, but it was better to fight close combat with daggers than it would be with his grandfather's bow.

Lourdes complied, sidestepping one of the Children to run towards the injured Sigrun. Her hands gripped the dwarf underneath the arms, dragging her backwards and away from the reach of the Mother. "Anders! Help her!"

The battle was a blur after that. She faintly noticed Anders casting spell after spell on Sigrun and Nathaniel and herself, healing broken skin and lacerations. But his spells could not replenish energy – Lourdes felt drained, like she had been fighting for eternity and wanted nothing more than to just rest. This battle seemed endless, neither side winning or losing. The Mother was injured, but so were the Grey Wardens. The Mother was fighting, but so were the Grey Wardens.

"Listen," gasped Lourdes, pulling her sword from a body near Anders. "We can't do this forever!"

The mage glanced at her, his staff and free hand still furiously moving to simultaneously try to attack the Mother and heal the many injuries. Sweat was apparent on his pale skin and his mouth was bleeding, too. He noticed her gaze. "I'm fine," he assured her quickly over the clash of the battle. "Took one in the mouth is all. We can do this, Lourdes, we're winning and-"

"No, we're not. No one's winning. Unless we finish this and finish it quickly, _we won't win at all!_" she told him, shaking her head violently. Nathaniel and Sigrun were doing a good job of holding back the Children as Lourdes' mind quickly worked to form a plan. "I'm going to try and get close enough so that I can kill her with one strike-"

"Are you _insane? _To get close enough to kill her with one strike you'd have to be near her head and I don't think she'll exactly let you do that!"

"I _know_, Anders! But what else is there to do?" Lourdes asked, feeling like letting out a frustrated scream as more Children entered the room. It was a nonstop assault and if they didn't win soon, it would be the last battle they ever fought.

"That's _suicide_, Lourdes, you're-" Anders began to say, a group of darkspawn crackling as he directed chain lightening towards their group.

She cut him off, switching her dagger to her left hand and abandoning her long sword altogether. It would only weigh her down and if she was going to have any chance at all, she needed to be fast. "I'm going for it!" she called to Anders, hearing him protest as she started sprinting.

Nathaniel looked alarmed but kept shooting at the Mother as Lourdes ran past him. An order fell from her mouth as she ran. "Keep shooting!"

Sigrun was the closest to the Mother, participating in a nimble dance-like attack that would surprise anyone who wasn't used to the dwarf's speed and skills. "What are you doing?!" Sigrun yelled over the clashes of the sound of battle. "Where's your sword?!"

"It's too heavy!" Lourdes yelled as she ran. "Distract her!"

There was a split second of horror as the Commander realized that the Mother wasn't getting properly distracted like she had planned. Nathaniel's arrows were hurting her, yes, and making her bleed like crazy as she ripped them from her body, but it wasn't enough to stop her from seeing Lourdes approaching.

A long limb reached out, sweeping into Lourdes' body and taking the air from her lungs. "No!" she managed to scream, sliding the tip of her dagger along the Mother's tentacle. The flesh ripped open and the Mother screamed, dropping Lourdes like she was on fire. Now _that _was a distraction.

The Warden took this opportunity to take the final steps needed to reach the Mother's head. Climbing the wide and fleshy body was challenging; Lourdes half stumbled up the Mother, slashing her dagger at any wayward tentacles. And finally she reached the moment: her dagger was clumsily driven into the broodmother's throat, spilling blood over Lourdes' hands and down her front.

As the Mother was gurgling blood, Lourdes felt incredibly lucky. She felt lucky right up to the moment that one of the tentacles slammed into back from behind, making the human tumble over the dying body of the Mother. She slid down the back of the monster, trying to dig her fingers into anything to stop her descent towards a gaping black hole that opened up in the floor. But there was nothing to hold on to, simply the slippery body of the Mother that wasn't doing anything to stop her from falling.

There wasn't anything for her to grab, but there was _someone _to grab onto _her._ "Nathaniel!" she cried in relief as his palm wrapped tightly around her wrist, pulling her back up.

"Hello," he said through gritted teeth, straining to maintain balance on the broodmother's dead body. The dark-haired man glanced back at whoever was tethering him to the ground on the other side. "Pull – pull us up."

As Nathaniel and Lourdes were pulled back up over the shoulders of the Mother, she saw that Sigrun and Anders each had one of his legs. Nathaniel's feet touched the ground first and he switched his hold on her wrist to take a hold of her waist instead, setting her onto the ground.

They all looked at each other in silence for a moment, before a smile broke out on Sigrun's face. "We did it," she said. "And we're still alive!"

"Thankfully," Nathaniel added, panting as he fought to catch his breath.

"And _barely_," Anders said, shaking his head. His staff passed over his head and onto his back. "We are… _very_, very lucky. I think we should all go back to the Keep now and celebrate just how lucky we are by getting a pint or two."

"Agreed," Lourdes sighed. Or maybe a night's worth of a good night's sleep. That sounded even better. The group wearily turned to exit. "Oh, wait. I forgot my dagger. I'll catch up in a second; I probably shouldn't leave that. It was Duncan's…"

She couldn't believe how lucky they had been. The last three minutes of the battle had been fast and a pure adrenaline rush, with everyone's bodies acting on instinct. Thank the Maker it had been the _right _instinct; Andraste knew where they might be if everything had gone wrong.

On the way back to the Mother's body, she picked her sword up from the spot where it had been abandoned before her reckless journey to the broodmother. She sheathed it as she slowly climbed the body, yanking her dagger from the Mother's throat. When Lourdes turned to descend down again, she noticed Anders was standing there, offering his hand to help her down.

She took it, less than gracefully sliding down the last few feet. "Thanks," she said, moving to take her hand from his. But he stopped her, shaking his head. "What?"

"You… I think you're trying to kill yourself on purpose," he said, looking an odd mixture of irritated and relieved. "The next time you're trying to do it, make sure I'm not around to be a witness to your stupidity."

Shock passed over her face. "What? What are you talking about? That wasn't _stupid_. It worked, didn't it? And anyway, I didn't want you to come in the first place! I _tried _to get you to stay at the Keep but everyone insisted on disobeying and making you come-"

Anders pulled her into a tight hug, which was slightly awkward as her dagger was pressed between their bodies. He released her after a moment, shaking his head again. "I can't believe we just survived that fight."

Lourdes smiled as they began to leave the nest. "I'm _really_ bad at dying, remember?" she reminded him, noting that the laugh he gave took away all traces of irritation. Well. _Most _of it, anyway. "I feel like-"

"Can I ask you a question?" Anders asked suddenly as they started to ascend the stairs. She could see Nathaniel and Sigrun near the top of the flight of stairs, taking their time to retreat from the nest.

"I was _talking_," Lourdes complained with a sigh, but shrugged after a moment. "Go ahead."

He paused as he stepped around a darkspawn body. "You said you didn't want me to come with you. To Amaranthine and to here. Why didn't you? I'm a good mage, Lourdes. And I think I've proven that you can trust me. I'm not some wild apostate who throws around spells everywhere and does naked demon rituals. Well. Only on special occasions."

She laughed half-heartedly, a strange feeling rising in her chest. It was a mixture of fear and adrenaline, brought on by his question. She knew what the answer was: _I didn't want you to get hurt. _But she couldn't bring herself to tell him. Not right now. "I… don't know."

"You're lying again," he accused, looking like a cat that had a bird between its paws. "Tell me, Lourdes."

"No."

"Tell me. Tell me. Tell me."

"Being annoying doesn't make me want to tell you," she informed him as they started their ascent up a second flight of stairs. Maker, her body was starting to ache tiredly. And they still had to camp and then go back to the Keep… she almost groaned. It was going to be a long day and a half. "Let's just go back to the Keep."

"Alright," he said with a sigh, disappointed. "But I'll wrench it from you one day, I promise."

"And you might also have an accident and fall down some stairs that day," she said with a smile, shaking her head. "I'll tell you one day. I promise. Just not today. I could sleep for days… I feel like I turned fifty today."

"I can't believe you've done something like this _twice. _If someone asked me to go back to the Keep and become Commander and go on another quest to save Ferelden, I would slam my door in their face and go right back to bed."

"It was harder this time. Last time I didn't have to resort to stupidity," she admitted. But then she thought of Morrigan's ritual and winced. "Well. Sort of."

She was trying to figure out if she regretted agreeing to Morrigan's suggestion as she lay in her tent. It had been concocted to save her and Alistair's lives, so that neither of them had to perish. Even if she had already gone separate ways from the Grey Warden, she hadn't wanted him dead. And she didn't want to be dead, either, in case… in case…

A sigh escaped from her as she rolled onto her back, staring up at the pale fabric that separated her from the stars. _In case Alistair begged me to come back. _It hadn't happened. That was probably for the best. Maker knew how stupid she would look if she had to announce to Ferelden_: Um, so I know I said Alistair would rule alone… but… just kidding! I'm going to be your new queen! Surprise! Oh, sorry, ignore the blood spatter..._

What about now? Now that she had saved Amaranthine from the threat of the Mother? If Alistair came running into her tent at this very moment and made a marriage proposal, would she selfishly take him up on it?

The answer was loud and firm in her mind without any doubts. _No. _No, she would not. _Because I have found a better place for me to belong. Not in a court or at a castle, but a place where people hug me after battles._

* * *

So Lourdes is kind of reckless when it comes to battles. I swear, the only reason she saved Ferelden the first time was because she's really, really lucky. She couldn't make proper battle tactics if her life depended on it. Which, haha, it does. XD

I feel this movie quote sums up this chapter:

"Five points… will be awarded to each of you. For sheer dumb luck."


	11. Chapter 11: the Return

"Nathaniel!" called Lourdes, spotting the silhouette of her friend against the sun. He had been sent ahead to scout and discover the status of various farmlands and homes. They were drawing close to Vigil's Keep, too, and she had hoped he would be able to see it from a tall hill. "How do things look?"

He stayed silent until he was a few yards away and even then she knew before he spoke. His mouth was set, making him look oddly like his father as he opened his mouth to speak. "Not good. The farms are in good shape – the soldiers you sent to protect them did their job. They gave us some food in thanks, but… I saw the Keep. From far away, but I saw it."

She grimaced. "I'm guessing it doesn't look very good."

"Well, it looks better than it might if you didn't have Voldrik make the upgrades," he said slowly. "I would hate to imagine what state it would be in if things hadn't been repaired. The gate was down, but there were guards stationed upon the catwalks."

The guards were a good sign; they had enough survivors to be watching for intruders. "Good," she said after a moment, a feeling of dread settling in her stomach despite the guards. "Thanks for telling me. I guess we'll all get to see it for ourselves shortly enough."

And they did.

The Keep was not as lucky as the city of Amaranthine.

Whereas the city was mostly intact, with a few buildings destroyed, the Keep had bits of walls that had been blown away. The gate was down and the guards called down that they hadn't had a chance to repair the gears yet. Lourdes and the other Grey Wardens had to step through a large hole that had been blasted into one of the stone walls to gain entrance to the courtyard.

Inside the courtyard, everything was chaotic. Bodies of darkspawn and soldiers littered the ground and they were slowly being removed. Lourdes caught one of the ones doing the removing by the elbow. "Where's Varel? I need to talk to him."

The soldier looked alarmed for some reason, then sad. "Maybe… you oughta speak to Captain Garevel, Commander. He's the one giving orders around here."

"No, where is Varel?" she questioned, glancing around as if she could find him in the courtyard. And… she did. One of the bodies still littering the ground was Seneschal Varel. He was a complete mess, with red staining his torso but with a sword still in his hand. Impaled upon the sword was the carcass of a darkspawn. "I…"

"Come on," Sigrun muttered quietly, taking Lourdes by the arm and pulling her through the gaping hole of the Keep that used to be the front door. The hinges were still intact, hanging loosely off of the frame, but splintered wood littered the surrounding ground. "Let's find Garevel. He'll tell us what's happened."

"I think she can tell what happened," Nathaniel said quietly, shaking his head as they wound their way through the half-destroyed halls of the Keep. "We don't need the gory details."

"Nevertheless, it'd be nice to know where everyone is," Anders said, running a hand across a torn tapestry. "And what we need to do. Plus, I think _someone _should be alerted that we're still alive and another army isn't going to come and bust down the walls again."

They found Garevel in what used to be the Throne Room – it was now set up as a second infirmary. The conscious patients seemed to be in two states: pain or pure glee. Two wounded soldiers grinned from ear to ear as they saw the Grey Wardens enter the room. "The Keep is still ours!"

She smiled. "Thanks to you. And Amaranthine still stands."

"You hear that, Jeffrey?! I _told _you it wouldn't be destroyed! You owe me two silvers, you do! Pay up or I'm gonna push you off your cot…"

Garevel wasn't as smiley as the wounded soldiers were. His mouth was pressed together into a line, though some creases disappeared from his forehead as he saw the surviving Grey Wardens approach. "Commander," he said formally. "The Keep is… damaged, though repairable. The city is safe?"

"Yes. And the darkspawn are gone. Their broodmother was killed and no armies should ever be returning here," she said, then glanced around. She didn't see any flash of bright red hair or pointed ears or the eerie eyes of Justice. "Where are the other Wardens?"

"Justice and Velanna were…" he trailed off, clearing his throat. "He was killed before the victory horn. I'm not sure where the spirit went, but… Kristoff's wife is collecting her husband's ashes. Velanna is... simply gone."

"She deserted?" Anders asked incredulously.

"No, you misunderstand," Garevel said, shaking his head. "A heavy load of stone fell upon her. We cleared the stone to retrieve her body, but… there was none. She is just… _gone._ I do not know where and right now we have more important things to worry about than where she might have gone to."

"You're right," Lourdes agreed, but then a thought struck her. He hadn't mentioned Oghren. "What about Oghren? Is he…?"

"Alive, Commander," he said, which caused Lourdes' shoulders to relax in relief. She hadn't been best friends with the dwarf, but he was still a familiar face to have around. They had been through a lot and she could tolerate his belching and drinking more than most. "He is in the second story infirmary. Unconscious, but alive."

"Good," Nathaniel said, surprising her. She had thought she only tolerated his presence, not actually cared about his wellbeing. Evidently she was wrong. "Now, what do you need from us, Captain?"

He thought for a moment, mentally going over what was being done to the Keep in his head. "Nothing at the moment. We are recovering bodies and identifying them. Voldrik is overseeing the reconstruction of the Keep and work is being done in the infirmary. Nothing much can be done until we receive words from whichever farmers require assistance and even then, we have soldiers that can do it for you."

"So…" Sigrun trailed off, not quite sure what to suggest. "To… the infirmary? To visit Oghren?"

"An unconscious Oghren," Anders said cheerfully. "Dreams _do _come true!"

And unconscious he was, though he was not without caretakers. Healers and assistants bustled from bed to bed, checking wounds and applying salves and bandaging things. Oghren was laid upon one of the cots, his armor piled next to his temporary bed. Despite his lack of color in his face, his chest did move up and down.

"He'll live, alright," a healer said, beaming as she looked down at him. She was young and pretty, her cheeks rosy and her brown hair pulled up loosely. "The men are sayin' he took down two ogres at the same time to stop the courtyard from being claimed. He passed out from blood loss after that, but he's still alive. I'm gonna thank him as soon as he wakes up – my husband was one of the soldiers that he saved."

"So… so Oghren is a _hero_," Anders said, looking alarmed. He reached out to touch the stone wall of the Keep, a confused expression on his face. "That's weird – the wall _seems _to be real but I _have _to be dreaming… ow!"

He rubbed his arm, scowling at Sigrun. "It slipped," she said, shrugging as she gestured to the healer that seemed to be in charge. "I think I'll see if they need any help… and maybe get my ribs looked at. They still ache a lot."

"I will go and speak with Voldrik," Nathaniel said after a moment, shouldering his quiver. "And then probably go visit those farmers again."

"Take soldiers if there are any to spare," Lourdes said, putting her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. "Come find me if no soldiers are available, alright? There might be stray groups of darkspawn in the country. Don't go alone."

Nathaniel nodded once, before excusing himself and exiting the infirmary. Anders stood idly for a moment, before clearing his throat. "And I guess _I _am going to go find someone that needs help, too. There doesn't seem to be a shortage of people that need assistance."

There wasn't. Farmers and peasants poured into the newly-repaired gate for weeks after the attack, demanding to know what was being done to recover the losses. "We will be spending money to rebuild houses and roads," she assured them. It wasn't _really _a lie. Technically it wasn't Amaranthine that would be spending the money. Other nations had promised they were sending gold to amass a relief force. "It will be done."

"Yeah? How do we know you're not just lying to shut us up?"

Good question. She paused for a moment. "Have faith. We are-"

"I'd rather have gold," he insisted. "I have two cows that're dead and without them I don't have any milk or cream or anything to sell to get any gold to buy another cow or two. You said that everyone's donating to the country, but I'm not getting any of this money."

"Yes," agreed another peasant. "There's more to Amaranthine than the city and Vigil's Keep. _We _live here, too!"

"Nations adjacent to Ferelden have promised money. They have sent word that they are currently transporting gold from their countries to ours. This will take time – the transports are heavily guarded and move slowly."

"So what do we do until then? Starve?"

"I have children!"

"I can't believe you're-"

"Quiet!" Lourdes yelled. To her surprise, they all closed their mouths and looked a little frightened. She thought it probably had something to do with the dagger and long sword she had sheathed. "I _promise _you that something is being done. While we are waiting for the funds from the other nations to come – Anthony, go to my quarters with a few soldiers and bring the locked chest down here."

There was complete silence in the hall as the soldier and his small band of men ventured upstairs to her room. Lourdes was lucky that their private quarters hadn't been ransacked and destroyed; a few of her baubles and trinkets were knocked off of her shelves from explosions, but nothing had been taken.

Fifteen minutes later, Anthony and his men returned. They were huffing and puffing, carrying the heavy burden of her locked trunk.

"Until we receive the donations," Lourdes said, drawing the key from around her neck. She inserted it into the padlock, opening her chest and drawing out a linen sack. "Please line up. Each family will receive… er… twenty? Yes, twenty sovereigns until the funds arrive."

By the end of the long line of farming families (some tried to line up twice, but Garevel took care of weeding those out), Lourdes was scraping at the bottom of her sack to come up with something to give to the last family. "I only have nineteen sovereigns left," she said in dismay. "Can I give you-"

"Commander, we will take whatever you wish to give," the old farmer said gently. "You have been more than generous already. You're drawing from your own funds to save our farms and… and we appreciate it. We do. I don't know about everyone else, but I consider this a loan. I'll pay it back when the donation caravans come."

She smiled, closing the lid on her empty chest. All of her money was gone. Everything she had picked up from tombs and tunnels and as rewards was gone. She thought she would feel bad and unhappy when it all disappeared – but she didn't. Lourdes was Warden-Commander… her quarters didn't cost her anything and she didn't really need to buy anything like food or supplies.

"Commander, you do realize that the Keep has a small amount of money in its treasury," Mistress Woolsey reminded Lourdes. "We could have used it to-"

"No," Lourdes said, cutting her off. It had been a long, long day. "Use the treasury to rebuild and buy medical supplies for the injured soldiers. This is my home. These people needed it more than I do. What was I going to buy with all that, anyway? A pony?"

"You could have bought a whole _fleet _of ponies," Anders said, moving to grab one side of her now empty chest. She took the other side and they slowly worked to move it back upstairs to her quarters. "Imagine what you're sacrificing."

"Oh, yes, I think the one regret of my life would be not funding a fleet of ponies to accompany me everywhere," Lourdes said sarcastically, grinning as they navigated the stairs. "You see right through me."

"Yes, I do," he said, his shoulder bumping into a corner. "Watch it. Where did you get all of that gold from, anyway? Was it your reward for saving Ferelden?"

She nodded. "Yeah," Lourdes said, but after a moment shook her head. "Well, no, I guess it wasn't."

"Yes or no?"

"Both," she decided after a moment, putting the chest down and opening the door to her room. When it was open, she entered her room first, moving to put the chest down in the corner of her room. "Nobody just _gave _me this gold all at once. We found it while we were traveling Ferelden."

"Hmm. All that gold, lost and unclaimed? Ridiculous. No wonder all the people are poor – they keep dropping their damn money all over the countryside."

She laughed, sitting down at the edge of her bed. "Sometimes people gave us rewards for helping them. Gold, items, a discount. It adds up after a year and a half or however long it took us to finish. We'd find something and if we didn't need it, we sold it or traded it. Mostly sold it."

"So what did you get from the King for saving Ferelden?" Anders wanted to know, sitting next to her on her bed. After a moment though, he rose, moving to examine her bookcases. It mirrored the way she had looked at his while he had been inspecting her wounds… that seemed like a long time ago.

"Uh," she said, pausing as she tried to shake the feeling of his fingers on her ribs out of her mind. It was a hard thing to do. "Nothing?"

"_Nothing_?" he asked incredulously, opening a small wooden box she had on her shelf. Inside was the rose Alistair had given her. It didn't look as fresh and as alive as it did the day he had given it to her, but it wasn't wilting at the normal rate, either. Even now, its petals were dry but retained their brilliant red color. "You risked life and limb and you got nothing?"

"Well, no, that's not true," she said slowly, rising to put the lid on the box when it seemed like he wasn't going to close it. She stood next to him, her fingers trailing over the various knick knacks she had collected. Some things were gifts from Fergus that he had sent her – little wooden carvings to replace the ones he had made for her when they were children. "Alistair offered a boon-"

"_I'll bet he did._"

"Really mature, Anders," Lourdes said with a snort. "Anyway, he offered a boon but I didn't know what I wanted. So I just told him to keep it and I would collect on it one day."

"Hmm. And that's all you got? Just fame and some boon you haven't even used yet?" he seemed irritated at this. "You think the country would be more grateful for the woman who saved Ferelden."

"Plus, you know, I'm alive," Lourdes said, rolling her eyes and going back to sit on her bed again. "But that's just me being grateful."

"If it were up to me," Anders said, returning to her side. She could almost feel the heat radiating off of his body. "I would have given you something better."

"Like a fleet of ponies?" she suggested, leaning back onto her bed. Her legs dangled onto the stone floor of the Keep. "But what would I _name _them all? You think I'm creative enough to come up with hundreds of names for my ponies?"

"Naturally," he began, laying next to her and propping himself up on his elbow. "I would help you name them."

"Oh, naturally," she said with a laugh, shaking her head. "How stupid of me to forget."

There was a pause in their conversation. "Speaking of you and being stupid," he said. "You never did tell me why you didn't want me to go to Amaranthine with everyone else. I think you should tell me. I really want to know."

Their light conversation had turned suddenly dangerous – Lourdes knew that if she said the wrong thing, she could do serious damage to their relationship. If that was even what it was. Anders had initially flirted with every girl at the Keep, but… now he didn't. He didn't exactly flirt with _her, _though. At least not as outrageously as he had with the servants and merchants and soldiers.

"Don't ask me that," Lourdes said, sighing as she closed her eyes. "I'm sorry I haven't told you yet. It's just been really busy around here and -"

"I know. Between rebuilding the Keep and you giving away all your money, we're both very busy people," he said, smiling even though she could not see it. "We don't really… talk how we used to."

"And then when we _do _talk, you have to open your mouth and ask stupid questions."

"Why is it stupid? I want to know, I told you. And you said you would tell me."

"I said _someday_. It's not someday yet," she argued, opening her eyes. She felt irritated all of a sudden, but she wasn't sure _who _she was irritated with. Herself, maybe, for not understanding how to express her feelings properly. Alistair had done that for the both of them – giving her a gift and asking her outright if she thought she could ever return his feelings. But Anders wasn't like that.

There was a pause. "Someday should be soon, though," he said after a moment. "You're driving me crazy by not telling me."

"And _you're_ driving _me _crazy by asking all the time," Lourdes said, rolling her eyes at him. "

"Tell me."

"No."

He reached out, gently prodding her side with the tip of his finger. "Please, Lourdes?"

"No," she muttered, sweeping his hand away from her. "Stop poking me. I'm not going to tell you if you continue to be this-"

His finger touched her again, this time hitting her square in the side of the ribs. Her raised scars, which were still leftover from the werewolf attack, acted as a guide for the shot of pain that rippled up her side. She gasped, flinching.

"What? What did I do?" he questioned, his demeanor changing immediately. It went from playful and curious to concerned almost instantaneously. He lifted her shirt to the top of her ribs, checking for injuries. "Are you alright?"

"No," she murmured, her heart rate drumming dramatically in her chest. His fingers were sweeping over her torso, following the curved path of her rib bones. "You've killed me."

He laughed, moving to pull away from her and pull her shirt back down. But her hand moved on its own, covering his and keeping his rough palm pressed to her navel. Silence fell over the room.

"I didn't want you to go," she said, closing her eyes slowly. "Because I was scared of you getting hurt."

He cleared his throat, his fingertips flexing against her skin. "I… and you weren't worried about the _others_ getting hurt? You've known Oghren longer than you've known me… and you weren't-"

"No! I mean… I _was _worried, but… not in the same way. Now, er, we should never talk about this again," she decided, her cheeks flaming from her confession. Why had she told him? Now this was going to be awkward and –

And, well. Her thoughts were cut off. Because Anders leaned over, placing one arm on the left side of her and one on the right. And he leaned down while her eyes were closed, touching his mouth to hers gently. His lips were soft and warm and he smelled like – well, she was too busy trying to identify what he smelled like, because he was kissing her.

"You should've told me sooner," he said when he pulled away, sitting on the edge of her bed. Anders was grinning. "Don't you regret being stubborn now?"

* * *

I couldn't remember how much I made over the course of the game. I'm estimating it to be about 800 gold or so, but I think that might be wrong. Someone in the forums said they made 600 over the course of the game while another said they made 930 sovereigns before the Landsmeet. That'd be about forty-six families of farmers spread throughout Amaranthine. I hope that sounds plausible!

And I hope the kiss wasn't too sudden. D: Feedback on that?


	12. Chapter 12: Parties and Persuasion

Anders had been right to assume that Lourdes would regret being stubborn. In the days that followed their first kiss, _oh_, how he made her regret it. She found herself wondering _why _she hadn't simply told him the reason she was reluctant to bring him along earlier. Because he was excellent at being sweet and then throwing in unexpected innuendo that would make her cheeks flush.

The pair wasn't quite daring enough to do… _that_, however. The Keep had stone walls, yes, but they weren't soundproof enough for them to attempt sex. Besides, people had a tendency to knock on her door at the worst of times. Anders and Lourdes were spending time together in his room one evening when someone knocked smartly on his door.

"Anders, have you seen the Commander?" someone wanted to know. "She's not in her room."

_That _had been awkward. She had been forced to hide behind his door as he opened it, quickly forming a lie about how he thought Lourdes had been headed down to the courtyard for some sparring.

The lie had been formed because, despite the fact that they both very much enjoyed their time together, they weren't quite sure whether or not people should know about them… Anders had heard enough rumors about her and Alistair to want to postpone any scandalous gossip about him as long as possible. So they attempted to be sneaky about their kissing. This was obviously not easy in a Keep full of soldiers and guards around every corner.

It wasn't a soldier that eventually acknowledged that their relationship wasn't a secret. It was Nathaniel. As she sat down to dinner together one evening (their entrances to the dinner hall were carefully paced five minutes apart so they did not enter simultaneously) he looked up from his soup briefly.

"Congratulations."

She blinked at the black-haired man, who was now innocently stirring his soup to help cool it. "On what?"

"On, you know, er," he glanced at Sigrun, who was offering no assistance in expressing what he was thinking. "You two."

Anders abruptly looked up from his own dinner. "What?"

An awkward silence fell over the end of the table. Lourdes was the one that spoke first, though it took her a few moments to get the half-formed words to vacate her mouth. "What do you mean, us two? Us two _what_?"

"You're… Lourdes, quit being difficult," Nathaniel said, shaking his head in frustration. "You know what I mean. Don't make me say it. You two are… together. Courting, I suppose, would be the word."

_Courting. _Oh, Maker, Lourdes almost laughed when that word appeared. It didn't really seem like she and Anders were… she couldn't even bring herself to repeat it in her head. _That _always carried connotations of ladies in dresses and men showering their interests with flowers and gifts. She and Anders weren't anything like that. They were battle scars and armor.

"There's just no hiding anything from that man," Anders commented after the awkward dinner, walking Lourdes back to her room. Ser Pounce-a-Lot was padding along behind them, occasionally stopping to poke his nose into a fissure in a wall. "Sometimes I think he's too good of a thief for his own good."

"It's kind of irritating," Lourdes agreed. "Especially when I'm trying to keep secrets."

"Still, it's nice to have a Keep full of rogues whenever I lock myself out of my room. Or when I need some place broken into," he decided thoughtfully, his fingers finding her waist as they paused outside of her room.

"When you need some place broken into?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. Her arms automatically rose to his neck. "What sort of places?"

"Oh, you know," he said breezily, grinning as he kissed her forehead lightly. "Just… places. Night, Lourdes."

_Places _were revealed to her a week later, when she awoke to the sound of a persistent rapping on her door. _Thunk thunk thunk… _it became more frantic. _Thunkthunkthunkthunk._ She ignored the noise, pressing her pillow against her face and rolling over in her bed. If it was an emergency, they would break her door down. But right now, all she wanted was some sleep.

Evidently not everyone had gotten the memo, though, as a voice floated through the thick wood of her door. "Lourdes! Wake up!" It was Anders, sounding excited and happy. Not dead or about to be dead. She rolled over again. It wasn't an emergency, so she was going to ignore him. This wasn't easily done, however, as a few minutes later he was bursting into her room, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Funny," she mumbled, sitting up and stretching. Her blankets were twisted around her torso, the evidence of a night of fitful sleep. She still had nightmares, sometimes. Not necessarily darkspawn-related ones, just… nightmares. "I thought I locked that door."

He smiled, cocking his head in the direction of the doorway. Sigrun stood there, looking sheepish but grinning slightly. "Funny," Anders said. "I thought you would remember how many people we have here that are able to pick locks."

"I hate you," she grumbled to Sigrun. The dwarf merely laughed, disappearing from sight as she left the doorway. Lourdes rubbed her eyes with her palm. When she removed her hands, she saw Anders smiling at her. "What did you need?"

"Do I need an excuse to come into your bedroom?" he asked, making the hair on the back of her neck stand as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Anders pulled her down onto her bed, both of them lying on their sides. "You told me once that when Grey Wardens weren't fighting darkspawn, they were throwing parties."

She frowned, looking suspicious. "Did I? I don't remember saying _that._"

"You said something _close _to it," he argued, shrugging. She could vaguely recall the conversation – a less than serious one in Kal'Hirol of all places. Parties… had she said something about parties? She couldn't remember. "The point is, we aren't fighting any darkspawn and yet I have seen no partying lately. "

"You want to throw a party? _Here?_" she asked incredulously, sitting up in her bed."At Vigil's Keep?" It wasn't exactly a beautifully decorated court or anything. Filled with soldiers and weapons, yes. With light-footed lords and ladies, no.

"Oh, yes, absolutely," he said flatly, fingering a piece of her hair. "I can just picture it now. The theme could be 'rubble.' No, Lourdes, but I want to _go _to a party. And, what a coincidence, I happen to have an invitation with me right here." He pulled something from his robes with a theatrical flourish. It was a thick and high-quality piece of parchment, with a bright red wax seal on it.

"_You_ were invited to a party?" she questioned, reaching to finger the seal. She couldn't identify it, since the letter had been opened and the seal broken. "I _knew _you were lying about the Circle! They're all party animals, aren't they?"

"It's not from the Circle, though Maker that would be hilarious," he said, smiling as he handed her the letter. "It's addressed to you."

"You read my mail?" she asked, taking the letter. Lourdes quickly scanned over it. The handwriting was a bit cramped and hurried, but there weren't any misspellings or ink blots to make it difficult to read.

_Lourdes-_

_Court is amazingly repetitive. You're lucky you're not here, though I guess I'm not so lucky about that. I could use your weapons to persuade people to leave me alone for a night or two. Anyway, by now you can guess that word of your Amaranthine adventures have reached the ears of every person in Ferelden. Everyone in Denerim is eager to meet you again. I (or, rather, my group of advisors) am throwing a celebratory event and I hope you will be there. And, of course, your fellow Grey Wardens are encouraged to come, as well. Details about the celebration are enclosed in a separate letter._

_- __Alistair_

As promised, there was a small piece of decorative parchment giving further information about the dates of the event. Lourdes inspected it for a moment, before tossing it onto her bed. "Gee, being forced into a court with hordes of nobles who are stiff and formal? And without _weapons? _That sounds _wonderful_! Oh, Anders, what will I ever wear?" Lourdes asked, clasping her hands together cheerfully.

"Don't try with the sarcasm, Lourdes. I see right through it. What else are we going to do here? You're not doing anything and I'm not doing anything and I really think we should go," Anders murmured. "Please?"

In the end, she gave in to Anders. It was hard not to, when he had _that _look on his face and made his voice sound like _that. _When she finally agreed to go to Denerim with him and the rest of the available Grey Wardens, he kissed her and promised that he would do _anything _in return. And it was that particular _anything _that made another set of shivers run up her neck.

The other Grey Wardens took more convincing. Oghren couldn't go, as he had only recently awoken from his blood-loss induced sleep and couldn't stand steadily. He could manage to _drink _steadily, but he was in no condition to travel to Denerim. Nathaniel took the most convincing and pleading and promising of favors – he really wasn't enthusiastic about the idea of entering a world where the Howes were murderous traitors. Sigrun only said, _there's nothing better for us to do? _but reluctantly agreed to go anyway.

"Commander, the Keep will be in good hands during your absence," Garevel assured Lourdes on the day of their departure. "I'll send word to Denerim if anything needing your attention arises."

"Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it, really. And we shouldn't be gone too long. Going there and coming back is what's going to take the most time."

Even with the horses (she made a sarcastic comment about the joys of riding a horse again) their journey lasted a good while. And what a trip it was – the majority of it was spent retching on the side of the road. Anders kept well away from her when she was throwing up the contents of her stomach; though he was continuously passing herbs and water and cool cloths to her via messengers.

A young soldier with dark skin and stubble pressed a damp cloth into her hand as she was crouching near the side of the road. "Here, Commander. From-"

"Anders, yeah," she muttered, pressing it to the back of her neck. She could kill darkspawn and the archdemon and the Mother. Dragon slaying? Sign her up. But long journeys to Denerim on horseback? _That _was what got her every time.

"So, er, you're not very used to horses, are you?" the soldier asked, standing idly next to her with a waterskin in his hand. When she was done wiping her mouth, he offered it to her.

"You caught that, huh?" she questioned, rinsing her mouth out with water and spitting it onto a nearby patch of grass. The cloth was removed from the back of her neck and folded neatly. "No, I'm not. I didn't travel much before the Blight. And, you know, _during _it we mostly _walked._"

"Ah," was all he said, taking the water back from her when she was finished. He rocked on his heels. "Er, Commander? I have a lot of sisters. And I… I was wondering if it might be possible that you might be, uhh… with…"

"With what?" she questioned, standing and straightening her armor.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "With… child?"

Lourdes began to violently choke on her own spit. The soldier flushed darkly, taking that reaction as a 'no.' The whole 'with child' scenario was by far the most embarrassing event that occurred during the trip. The rest of it was fairly uneventful and refreshingly quiet. It was _nice _to be able to travel without being ambushed by bandits or monsters and just take in the country side.

The stench of dogs (how had she missed that the first time she had traveled to Denerim?) wasn't so nice. It reminded her too much of the dog that she had left behind when going to Amaranthine. She was hoping that Repsicorn was happy somewhere, getting fat on rabbits.

"Hmm, I think I've seen – and _smelled _– enough of Denerim to last a life time," Anders mused. "And we've only just entered the place."

"It's very crowded," Sigrun agreed, nervously picking at her horse's saddle. "And your buildings look odd. Mismatched…"

Lourdes looked – really _looked _– at the buildings at the edge of the city for the first time. They did look… odd. Damaged, yes, from the gigantic fight that had occurred over a year and a half ago. The repairs weren't seamless – the materials that the citizens had chosen to rebuild bits of missing houses didn't blend in very well. It gave the whole city a sort of patchy, quilted look. It was nice, maybe, in a quaint and whimsical way. Or cheap. It probably depended on the person who was looking at the buildings.

"I wonder what the Palace will look like," Nathaniel said from the back of their group. "Was the damage to it extensive?"

"I don't know," Lourdes said slowly. "I don't think so. We stopped the fighting before any major damage occurred… I _think _so, anyway. I wasn't really focused on the architecture. The archdemon was sort of the focus that day."

"I-" Anders stopped mid-sentence, pulling the reins of his horse. Their procession stopped abruptly as he looked around. "What is that?"

Lourdes stayed quiet, listening. She heard nothing. "What are you talking about?" she questioned, but he shook his head and shushed her. They all fell silent, straining to hear what Anders had detected. It took a few moments, but she faintly heard a sound. It sounded… like _people. _A _lot _of people. "Is that…?"

"Your welcome celebration, yes," an older soldier said, looking amused. "You didn't think your journey into the city would be a quiet event, did you? You are all heroes. Much-loved ones, too, if my sources were correct. The commoners are all gathered in the marketplace in celebration."

"I… alright," Lourdes said after a moment. She glanced at Anders – his expression was a mixture of surprise and thorough enjoyment at the fact that he was considered a hero. "Should we, er, travel through the marketplace, then?"

"To the marketplace, yes," the soldier said, smiling slightly. "Men, be on guard. People get excited during these things… trust me, I've seen a few."

And the people _were _excited. Children were hoisted upon the shoulders of their fathers, waving small scraps of brightly colored fabric and cheering in glee. The whole situation was a bit bewildering – people had been this excited immediately after the battle, but she had thought the excitement would die down after time.

Evidently not, though. Their journey to the royal palace took the better part of three hours, as their procession had to be careful to not step onto anyone. "Finally," Nathaniel groaned as he dismounted his horse. "I feel like I've been in this city for weeks."

"You smell like it, too! Way to blend in," Anders said, clapping him on the back. "Think I should go roll around in the dirt for a bit so my smell doesn't throw off the sweaty nervous thing you have going?"

"I'm not _nervous_, just… wary," Nathaniel said slowly. "I'm wondering how the nobles will react to my presence."

The older soldier cleared his throat, stepping into the small circle that the Grey Wardens had formed as they talked. "You won't have to worry about that tonight, my Lord," he murmured. "The king has promised the Grey Wardens a private dinner. Tomorrow morning, he said he would join you for breakfast along with close friends."

"Close friends?" Sigrun asked, raising an eyebrow. "_Whose _close friends?"

"Um, the Warden-Commander's, of course," the soldier answered, shifting awkwardly. He patted down his pockets. "I'm sorry, Commander, I had a list of attendees but I seemed to have misplaced it…"

"Wait, wait," Anders said slowly, holding his hands up to halt the conversation. "Lourdes… has _friends?_"

She reached over to hit him gently, though on the inside she was thinking the same thing. Close friends in attendance? _Which _close friends? She hadn't been under the impression that she had any in Denerim. Except for Alistair, of course, but that was a given… her bewilderment continued as she was scrubbed with a fluffy towel by a handful of servants.

"You have a lot of scars," one of the servants observed as she combed Lourdes' hair. "I suppose that's natural, though. Saving Ferelden has to give you _some _markings. Oh, excuse me. For breakfast tomorrow, would you like to wear green or blue?"

"Uhhh, blue?" Lourdes said slowly, sitting back in the chair that had been provided for her. The servant looked sharply down at her. "I mean – green." The woman smiled, motioning for the vast wooden wardrobe to be opened and a green dress extracted. It was hung on the outside of the wardrobe so it would be ready in the morning. "Do you know who else is attending the breakfast?"

"Hmm, let me see," the woman murmured. "I know I was told who would be attending… Marta, do you remember?"

A fair-haired woman glanced up from where she had been smoothing down the creases in the green dress. "I… hold on, it's on the tip of my tongue… I can _almost _remember… Oh! Yes. I remember someone was coming from the Frostback Mountains… there's a temple there, I believe."

Lourdes blinked. "Is that all? A… priest, I'm guessing, is my close friend?"

"I don't think she's a priest," Marta said slowly. "I think someone is coming from Antiva, as well, or maybe it was-"

Only when she mentioned Antiva did the ideas finally come together. The Frostback Mountains was where the Urn of Sacred Ashes had been found and _Leliana _had said she was going on an expedition there with the Chantry. And Antiva – that was practically synonymous with _Zevran!_

She smiled as she walked to the private dining hall that had been provided for the Grey Wardens. She would get to see Zevran and Leliana! And maybe some others, who knew who Alistair considered her friends? Maybe her brother would be there! The idea of seeing everyone she loved in a single room made her blissfully happy. Her happiness didn't go unnoticed, either.

"You're looking awfully cheerful tonight, Lourdes," Nathaniel said quietly over his plate full of food. He was eating slowly, chewing each piece of food thoughtfully. "Can I ask why?"

"Absolutely," she said, her hand in Anders' beneath the table. It was slightly awkward for her to hold his hand – he was seated to her left, which meant she had to hold his hand with her left hand. Eating with her non-dominate right hand was a challenge. But his fingers were passing softly over her palm, making her glad he wasn't seated across of her. "I get to see my friends tomorrow."

"Oh? And what're we? Bags of potatoes?" Anders asked with a snort. "How nice."

"I meant my _other _friends," she clarified. "I'm pretty excited about it. I haven't seen them in so long."

"We can tell," Sigrun assured her, her tattooed face studying her Commander carefully. "You look like your face is about to break from all of the smiling you're doing. So tomorrow you've got some friends to see."

"Yes, I do. And tonight, before it gets too late, I have a king to see," she told them, tugging her hand free of Anders' grasp. Lourdes stood, pushing her chair in and kissing Anders on the cheek. "Goodnight, everyone. Make sure to get some sleep. And try not to complain too much, Sigrun, when you're forced into a dress tomorrow."

She didn't miss Anders' raised eyebrow as she left the dining room, but he didn't seem overly concerned about her meeting with Alistair. Lourdes felt a surge of feelings for the mage rise up in her chest. He trusted her. Wholeheartedly. Even when she was going to a late-night meeting with her former lover, he didn't say anything and he didn't try to stop her or insist that he go with her. She made a mental note to repay the favor somehow.

Truthfully, Lourdes was worried her meeting would be awkward, with their past relationship becoming the elephant in the room. She didn't love Alistair in that way anymore, she was sure of it. At least, she was sure of it when she was away from him. Who knew how she would react when she saw him in person, though? Nervously, Lourdes knocked on the door that a guard had directed her to. Though the king was supposedly busy signing papers and doing some kingly business, a short "come in" made her push the door open.

And there he was. Alistair Theirin, her former lover. Her best friend. Her Grey Warden. She braced herself for the flooding of feelings that she had anticipated she would feel as he looked up to see who had entered the room, but she felt none. Well, that wasn't accurate – she felt_ something_, but it wasn't love or lust.

It was… peace. Even as he rose from his chair and hugged her tightly, she felt no urge to press her mouth to the soft skin below his ear or to beg him to let her take back what she had said to him. "Ouch," she complained, smacking the side of his arm as he pulled away from her. "I need those ribs later, you know."

"Of course," he said with a grin. "I imagine the Warden-Commander has great need of her ribs. I've heard you've been very busy."

"Really?" Lourdes questioned with a snort of amusement, sitting down into one of the cushioned chairs he had gestured to. "Someone must have been lying to you. I've been feeling utterly useless since the Broodmother was slain. No darkspawn means that all I'm surrounded with at the keep is papers and decrees."

"Ah, we're in the same boat," he said, picking up a thick stack of papers for her to see. "How about I fill out your papers for you and you fill out mine for me?"

"That might work," she said slowly. "_Except _I'd be tempted to check the female box for every application and form you're filling out. And that wouldn't be so good for you, reputation wise."

"Good point," he said with a laugh. Lourdes felt her face pull into an effortless smile. There wasn't any awkward electricity in the room, no lingering looks or blushing skin. This was… easy. It was a relief. No feelings had appeared at the sight of him, which made things so much easier for her.

Evidently her ease was noticeable to him, too, as he soon cleared his throat. "Is everything okay? You seem different, somehow."

"I _am _the Hero of Ferelden _and _the Hero of Amaranthine, now," she offered, pleased to see him smile at that answer. "I don't know. I don't feel different. A little restless, maybe, which is why I'm here. Oh, that reminds me. You, sir, owe me a boon."

"Do I, now?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. "And what _boon_ does the Warden-Commander desire? I can't give you our supply of ale, so tell Oghren to stop asking."

"I need you to pull some strings."

"Which strings? The _this-is-a-great-idea _strings or the _I-really-hope-I-don't-get-in-trouble-for-this-later _strings?"

"I don't know," she said, pausing to think. "Is there a middle ground? What I want isn't really _bad_… only a _few _people would get upset over it."

"Oh, only upsetting a _few _people? Well, sign me right up. Half the country's always angry for one reason or another – I've learned it's impossible to please the nobles and the commoners simultaneously. What do you need me to do?"

She smiled, leaning closer towards him, though there was a large desk separating them. "I need you to get me phylacteries."

His eyes narrowed at her. That was too simple. She could have gotten a phylactery or two simply by using her Warden-Commander influence. "How many phylacteries are we talking about, here?"

She shifted in her seat, running her hand through her clean and damp hair. "Well…"

"Lourdes. How many. Phylacteries. Are we talking about?"

Her lips pursed and she finally looked up from the carpet, eyes glittering. "All of them."

* * *

Our story is drawing to an end, I think. A chapter or two more and then... :( I think I might write other stories about Anders and Lourdes, though. I can't decide. Boo.

And this chapter has some pacing issues, I know. I just didn't want to linger over unimportant things, I guess haha

ALSO: My birthday is this week and my parents are getting me the Dragon Age novels. :) Can I get a high five?!


	13. Chapter 13: Kingly Persuasion

It took a good half hour for Lourdes to thoroughly explain exactly what she wanted done. That was the easy part, too – now she had to persuade Alistair that yes, she was sure this was what she wanted and she was sure it would be well received. … Mostly well-received, anyway. As the king had mentioned before, it was impossible to please everyone at the same time.

He leaned back into his chair, running his hands through his longer hair. "I don't know, Lourdes…" he said, sighing. His lips pursed and unpursed – his jaw tightened and he opened his mouth to speak. Then he closed it, clearly conflicted. Finally, he just sat at his desk, peering down at the palms of his hands.

_Don't say no, please don't say no, please don't say no, Alistair, don't say no. _"Come on. You know it's a good idea. And it's for the best, really. It is."

"That's exactly what I'd expect you to say. _It's a good idea, really, Alistair. Go and give Sten a big hug…_" he mocked with a small smile, before his face grew solemn again. He studied her for a long moment. "Can I ask _why _you want _this? _I'm not trying to talk you out of it, I just… I thought maybe you would have wanted something different."

"Maybe I would have, if things… you know, weren't like they are," Lourdes said slowly, her thumb passing over a scar she had on the outside of her wrist. "But I want this. And I'm not going to have that boon available forever. One day I might wake up and do something really stupid and you'll have to revoke my boon. So I want this while I can still get it."

He was quiet, then, his gaze sliding from her face to the desk in front of him. He shifted some papers out of the way, pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment. "And this has nothing to do with your mage boyfriend?"

Lourdes felt a smile take over her features. "It might, Alistair," she admitted. "But that's not the point. The point _is _that I came here looking for a boon and I'm not leaving until I get what I want."

"I always thought your stubborn streak was sort of… endearing. But now, on the receiving end of it… it's actually more-"

"Annoying?" she suggested.

"Yes, exactly. That."

"Oh, Alistair," Lourdes said, shaking her head sadly. "You haven't seen me being stubborn yet. Get yourself a drink; prop up your feet… I've had a week and a half on the road to build up my argument. Even if you were going to agree with me right away, I was still going to recite it. It's _that _good."

He chuckled, settling back into his chair. "Okay. Well, Warden-Commander, make your case. I'm listening."

It took_ another_ thirty minutes to completely convince Alistair that what she wanted wouldn't have deadly repercussions. By the time she finally managed to get him write up a letter to Knight-Commander Greagoir, she was yawning.

"What am I doing?" Alistair asked, shaking his head as he noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes. He folded his hands onto the desk in front of him – she noticed they were splattered not with blood, but with ink. "You've been on a _horse _all day and here I am, making you reassure me over and over that this is what you really want and that I'm not going to be killed for it. Go to bed, Lourdes."

She smiled, standing from the comfortable chair that was all too tempting to fall asleep in. "I think I liked you better when you were a Grey Warden. You were less bossy," she joked, stretching her arms towards the ceiling. "Goodnight, Alistair. And… thank you. Really. I know I don't always make the sanest or… most rational demands and I'm glad you're humoring me."

"Yes, well," he said, momentarily pausing as he covered a yawn of his own with his hand. "If this falls apart I can always just blame it on you. That's my secret plan."

She moved to smile and walk away, back to the wing that the Grey Wardens had been placed in. But… something stopped her. The Comander lingered at his doorway for a moment, fingering the handle of the door. "Oh, yes, you're wily," she said softly, watching him. Alistair stiffened at his desk for a moment, before glancing up at her from whatever kingly document he was looking at. A small, soft smile slowly spread across his features.

"Nefarious even," he replied, perfectly following the pattern of dialogue they had used… how long ago had that been? Two years, maybe? Give or take a few months… The words they used were exactly the same, but the situation and the meaning were completely different. "Goodnight, Lourdes."

"Night," she replied one final time, before disappearing from the room. The last pieces of their conversation replayed in her mind… it was as close to a heart-to-heart as the pair would ever get. Neither the King nor his Warden-Commander were very good at discussing their feelings, but they both tended to have their feelings carefully hidden in syllables. This time, they weren't so hidden. A blatant question had been in her accusation of his wily ways: _Are we okay? Can we still be us without being… _us_? _And his lighthearted reply had been perfectly timed: _Of course. Always._

The first time Lourdes had taken part in that conversation, it was a quiet evening at Orzammar, the city rejoicing in its new king. A rose had been given to her, a flower full of possibilities and promises and she never could have imagined this future in that moment: a future without Alistair that she _voluntarily_ chose for herself. She-

No.

She paused as she walked to the Grey Warden wing of the Royal Palace. No. She_ still_ had Alistair. She still loved him and needed him and probably always would – they had spent too much time together and gone through too much to ever be completely cut off from one another. This was a future _with _Alistair… just not a future _solely_ ofAlistair. The focus of her life was different now, but not better or worse. Now the focus was spread out over several people and places and goals in her life. Helping Amaranthine recover and rebuilding the Keep and making sure that all of the darkspawn were retreating back where they were supposed to be going and –

And, Lourdes thought as she opened a door, of course there was _him._

Surprisingly enough, Anders was still awake. He was in his bed (well, not really _in _it, since he was sitting on top of the blankets cross-legged) with a book open on his lap. Evidently it was an engrossing book, as his hair was out of its ponytail and he didn't bother to push it back into place. He didn't bother to pet Ser Pounce-a-Lot, either, as the cat repeatedly rubbed its head against his knee.

The cat was the first to notice the Commander – it sharply turned its head in her direction and let out a long and demanding meow. _Do something about _this_! _It seemed to screech. _He's not paying attention! I need petting!_

"Neglecting your cat?" Lourdes asked, closing Anders' door behind her. The mage glanced up, grinning as he shut his book. Not all the way, though; his finger was placed in the book to mark his place. "Must be an interesting book."

"Absolutely," he agreed, motioning to the place across from him to signify that she should take a seat there. Lourdes did, crossing the room and climbing into place across from him. She sat on his bed, a mirror image – she, too, sat cross-legged. "This place has an amazing library – I had to wrestle this gem away from Sigrun. I thought she was going to stab me in the back as I was walking away."

"Oh? What are you reading?"

"_101 Orlesian Sexual Positions._"

"You liar," she accused, lunging for the book. He held it above his head, using a hand pressed against her stomach to keep her at bay. After a moment of unfruitful struggling, she sat back onto her bottom and pretended to be uninterested. "It's probably a book about cats, anyway."

"Wrong," he said simply, flashing the cover to her. She glimpsed the words _Magical Theory _and _Spellmaking _between his long fingers as he held it. "Magic."

"I'm not surprised," she said, smiling slightly. "Magic and cats. That's my Anders. I still can't believe you brought your cat with you."

"I wasn't going to leave him at the Keep, was I?" he questioned, using his free hand to scratch the cat behind the ears. "I saw the way Oghren was looking at him. A little sauce and spices and kitty would've been a meal for that dwarf."

"I don't think Oghren's _that _desperate for food. Everyone's baking him pies and cookies as a thank you for saving their son or husband or father or whoever," Lourdes said. Anders paused, removing the finger he had been using as a bookmark. He pulled her into his lap, earning himself a sharp meow of protest from Ser Pounce-a-Lot.

"Oh, shut up," he scolded the cat. Lourdes raised an eyebrow. "Not you. Him. He's just ridiculously jealous that you get all the attention now. He knows you're my favorite and it bothers the hell out of him."

"I'm your favorite?" she teased, opening the book and setting it onto her knees. It was all about magical theory and application and how to make spells and… Maker, it looked boring.

Lourdes could feel Anders shrug as he rested his chin on top of her head. It was a bit uncomfortable, since he hadn't shaved lately and she could feel prickly stubble biting into her scalp. But he was warm and comforting and she wasn't planning on moving anytime soon.

"What were you talking to Alistair about?" The question, though sudden, was carefully said to sound nonchalant.

She snorted. "We weren't talking. We were making mad love on top of his desk. Really messy. There was ink everywhere," she said. Though he knew she was joking, his hold on her tightened possessively.

"I'm getting a mental image right now and I don't think I'll ever be able to look at the king in the same way," Anders informed her, kissing her temple. "Joking aside–"

"Aww, do we _have _to put it aside? I love it so much."

"Joking _aside_," he continued, acting like she hadn't interrupted her. "I really do want to know what you were talking about. Can I know?"

"You're allowed to know," she said, moving the book to the bedspread beside them. She turned in his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. "But you'll get to know tomorrow at breakfast. We thought we'd announce it then. At least… I _think _we're announcing it then. The plan was kind of hard to make out amongst all the moaning and groaning and gyrating we were-"

Anders' hands moved to her waist, lifting her briefly from his lap so he could pin her back to the bed. "You…" he informed her, one hand moving up the side of her body ridiculously slowly. "Are evil. Purely evil. I think the darkspawn blood has started to taint you."

"Sorry, you're going to have to wait until tomorrow to hear the news. It'd be unfair if you got to hear it before everyone else just because we're-"

"Together. Courting. Madly in love. Madly in lust? Boyfriend and girlfriend. Significant others," he suggested, his lips trailing down the soft skin of her neck. She frowned, attempting to roll away from him. "What are you doing?"

"It's going to be hard for me to appear professional tomorrow when I have lip marks on my neck," she pointed out. Anders paused, holding himself above her.

"Who said anything about _lip _marks?" he murmured. "I was thinking _teeth _marks."

It was ridiculously hard for her to pull herself away from him. Anders had a certain expression, an odd mixture of smoldering gaze and pure adoration that made it very, very difficult for Lourdes to do anything except to agree with whatever he was saying. But… she was the Grey Warden Commander. And Commanders did not have teeth marks upon their necks when they were trying to announce something important.

"Anders."

"Lourdes."

"_Anders._"

"_Lourdes,_" he mocked, pressing his lips softly to her collarbone. "We're alone in a castle. The walls are thick. I won't leave marks. I promise. Please. I'm begging you."

In the end, her half-hearted excuses that she was Warden-Commander didn't hold up. Lourdes stayed in Anders' bedroom that night and as she sleepily woke in the morning, she was very, very happy with her decision. She could feel Anders' warm breath on the back of her neck and his snores were soft and quiet. His arm was around her waist, his fingers lightly curling against her navel.

She tried to get up and rise, to alert someone that she was alive and okay lest they see her empty guestroom and assume she had been captured or killed or just plain left the palace. But a tugging on her dark brown hair jerked her head back to her pillow unceremoniously. "What…?" she raised a hand to her hair, feeling the tips of her fingers collide with something squishy and warm. A surprised and sleepy meow greeted her. "Oh."

Ser Pounce-a-lot was buried in her thick hair, his soft purrs rumbling against her ear now that she was petting him.

"Quit disturbing my cat," Anders mumbled sleepily against her skin, his arm around her waist tightening to pull her closer to him. His mouth moved wordlessly against the back of her neck, his kisses trailing down her skin until he reached her bare shoulder. "Morning?"

"Morning," she affirmed, trying to disengage the cat from where he was curled up in her hair. But as she tried to lift him from the strands, he hissed softly at her. "Could you move your demon cat? He hates me now."

"I'm telling you, it's just because he's jealous," Anders assured, sitting up in his bed to coax the tabby from her hair.

"Why? He wants to be Warden-Commander?" she questioned, patiently waiting and hoping no one burst into Anders' room to say something like, _Have you seen the Commander? We can't – ohhhhh._

"No," the mage said, lifting the cat from her hair and depositing it at the foot of the bed. Ser Pounce-a-lot looked irritated, but reluctantly curled up onto the blankets that were twisted there. "He's jealous because he knows I like you more than him. Cats are easily jealous, trust me."

"So can I expect an assassination attempt from him any time soon?" Lourdes questioned, sitting up and collecting her articles of clothing from where they had been strewn about. Most of them were on the floor, but for some reason her tunic had been flung onto a bookshelf.

"Definitely," Anders said sleepily, buckling and fastening and pulling on his Tevinter robes. "Don't worry, though. He'll have to go through me to get to you and there's a whole lot of me to go through when you're not even a foot tall."

She smiled, pulling her tunic over her recently recovered small clothes. Her pants were next, the lacings proving to be difficult to figure out in her sleepy state. Anders paused, watching her struggle for a moment, before moving to lace them up for her. His knuckles grazed her skin as he fastened the ties in a neat and sturdy bow, making her flush slightly. He smiled, his hands traveling up her stomach until they found a hold at her waist. Lourdes was pulled to him as he pressed his mouth to hers firmly. "Thanks."

As soon as they had boots on, Anders paused to peek out of his room. Evidently there weren't any servants present in the hallway, as he sighed and relaxed. "It's clear. Let's go."

So they went. Lourdes had to stop by her room first, to let servants pull the pre-planned green dress onto her body. They combed out her hair, too, which she imagined looked quite scary from her, er… nighttime activities. When they were satisfied with the state she was in, they released her back out into the hallways with Anders.

By the time they had reached the private dining room, she was nearly buzzing with excitement. "I can't wait to see them," she told Anders, her arm laced through his. He grinned at her, shaking his head slightly.

"I know. Well. This is it," he said, pulling himself away from her. He opened the dining room door for her, motioning for her to enter. "After you."

* * *

OH SNAP CLIFFHANGER. Sort of. This chapter is sort of shorter than the others, but it's because I had one huuuuge long chapter and I wasn't sure where to break it in half. This seemed like the best place. :) In the next chapter: we finally see Zev and Leliana! Yeah!


	14. Chapter 14: the Breakfast Plan

Ah, it's been a month since I've updated! I'm so sorry I got behind with updates. I have no excuses and I'm sorry. I _do _have a question, though – if I were to create a Livejournal or something that has small snippets of stories (probably all Dragon Age related haha) and fanmixes, would anyone want a link to it?

* * *

Lourdes only had a brief glimpse at the redecorated dining room before her line of sight was obstructed by something. Or, well, _someone. _Someone who was sitting close to the door rose suddenly, embracing the Grey Warden tightly. Red hair tickled her cheek – Leliana! The young woman was grinning widely as she pulled back from Lourdes.

Leliana hadn't changed much, to be honest. Lourdes wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn't _this. _A few parallel lines were running across her forehead and her hair had been carefully cut to attempt to hide the scar, but Lourdes didn't honestly think anyone would be looking at the _scars. _People were probably going to stare at the way she was _dressed._

"Lourdes! How are you? It has been much too long!" the rogue said, hugging her tightly again before surveying her choice of dress. "That color looks very nice with your hair."

She felt obligated to return the compliment, somehow. Lourdes surveyed the woman's dress carefully, scared that if she looked at it too long she would turn blind. It was… definitely _unique. _"I've been great, thanks," Lourdes said, noting that the dress, as elaborate as it was, still had some Holy Symbols stitched and pressed subtly here and there. It made the Grey Warden feel better to know that Leliana hadn't completely cast off her Chantry life. "Your dress is… lovely."

"Oh, thank you," Leliana said, smiling. Despite the elaborate details and the bright colors, she really did look beautiful. But then again, Lourdes supposed that the Orlesian was one of those women who could look wonderful in anything, be it expensive and fashionable dresses or rough and unflattering and stinky leather armor. "It's from Orlais… I've been back there, picking up a few things and clearing my name. And, of course, I could not resist the urge to purchase a few dresses. They have many wonderful-"

The woman was cut off promptly as someone spoke, winding an arm around Lourdes' waist. "Yes, yes, enough talk of dresses," the person said briskly, but warmly. She turned, recognizing the voice instantly. Zevran. He smiled, his eyes crinkling as he embraced her tightly. "I see you are still in one piece. This is definitely good."

Much like Leliana, Zevran looked the same. He might have looked even better than when she last saw him – tanner and even more fit, if that was possible. Lourdes started to feel a little self-conscious. Was she the only one that had changed in the time they had spent apart? Maybe she should cut her hair, too, to hide the scars she had gained. Or the tiny wrinkles that she felt were obvious, but Anders had insisted were non-existent.

"Oh, but being in separate pieces would be so _convenient _for traveling," she said after a moment, a grin rising to her features. Lourdes' eyes fell around his face, looking for piercings or tattoos or scars. "I'm glad you're in one piece, too, Zev. I see you haven't gotten any more tattoos."

He winked. "At least not where you can see them."

Anders cleared his throat, looking awkward. He was in the middle of the small reunion and his expression clearly said _I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. Do I sit down? Stand up? Talk? _Lourdes gently reached to take his hand, bringing him to her side. "This is Anders."

Leliana immediately grinned, the rogue instantly picking up on how Lourdes' expression changed when she said his name. And, of course, the hand-holding was a big tip off. "Hello," Leliana said, reaching forward to grasp his hand enthusiastically. "I am Leliana."

He smiled slightly as she shook his hand, flexing his fingers when she released it. "Right," he said, clearly remembering that Lourdes had mentioned Leliana the Orlesian bard before. "Which makes you… Zevran."

"How impressive," Zevran said with a small grin and a nod of his head. "Not only a mage, but apparently a psychic, as well. Has Lourdes been talking about us behind our backs?"

"Not really _talking_ about you," Anders said slowly, sitting down on one of the vacant chairs that were arranged around the table. Lourdes sank down next to him, with Zevran and Leliana sitting across from the couple. "I asked for a quick run-down and she gave me a few short descriptions."

"They must have been pretty accurate, for you to be able to guess Zevran's identity that quickly," Leliana remarked.

"I think it was more process of elimination," Lourdes said, wincing as something collided with her shin. She glanced beneath the table briefly – she saw Leliana's slippered foot retreat back to its spot. "What?"

"What?" The bard echoed, looking confused. A perfectly innocent expression rested on her face and Lourdes was reminded just how good of an actress Leliana had been forced to become. But then, when Anders and Zevran looked away from the redhead, the innocent expression slipped away. She cocked her head towards Anders, mouthing something suggestive that made Lourdes' cheeks flare up.

"Uh, yes, Lourdes is right – it _was _more of a process of elimination. I've met the king and Oghren. I'm pretty sure you're _not _a woman, either, or a Qunari warrior. Or a dog. Or made of stone."

"Well," Zevran said, grinning as he lifted his glass to his mouth. A small mouthful of wine was swallowed before he spoke again. "It really depends on which women you've asked."

"Oh, dear, I always seem to walk in on _these _kinds of conversations," someone said with a sigh from behind Lourdes. She turned in her chair, craning her neck to see who it was that had entered the dining room.

"Wynne!" Lourdes moved to get up from her seat, but Wynne patted her shoulder and shook her head.

"No, it's quite alright, just stay seated. I'm sure there will be plenty of time later for hugs and reunions."

Wynne had never been more right. Later in the evening, there _was _plenty of time for hugs and reunions, as well as introductions when Sigrun and Nathaniel joined everyone at the table. Alistair was the last one to come to breakfast, looking irritated and tired as he sunk into the chair at the head of the table.

"I blame _you, _you know," Alistair said after a moment, noting that everyone seemed to be waiting for an explanation about his lateness. Nathaniel's head shot up quickly, looking to see who the king was addressing. "Lourdes, I mean. I blame her."

"I'm pretty sure I taught you how to read time," she said, picking up her glass and swirling its contents around. Below the table, Anders' hand held hers. "It's not my fault if you couldn't apply it properly."

"No," he clarified, leaning back in his chair so that a servant could pour him a glass of wine. "I blame you and your horrible boon. _Never _have I had so many advisors asking me if I'm _sure _I want to do this and _maybe _I could rethink this and _could they speak to Lourdes about this?_"

"Your boon?" Anders asked, his ears keenly picking up the key word. "Oh, so _that's _what you two were doing. Figuring out what you wanted."

"A boon? That's… a reward?" Sigrun asked, pushing her food around her plate as she looked across the table to Lourdes. "What did you choose?"

From the way all of the eyes seemed to be on her now, Lourdes thought it would be safe to assume that everyone else wanted to know what she had chosen, too. She paused, putting down her glass of wine and clearing her throat. "Well," she said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Anders' hand squeezed hers, his thumb tracing circles on her skin.

"No pressure," Zevran said with a chuckle, smiling encouragingly at her. "If you wanted ownership of the Pearl, Lourdes, don't be afraid to admit it. I would choose that, perhaps. Or a nice ship. Did you get a boat for your boon?"

She laughed, feeling the nervousness leave her lungs as she exhaled. "No. I wanted the Circle to be free of templars and the phylacteries returned to the people that they came from."

Silence fell over the room, but it only lasted a few seconds before everyone was suddenly talking to her. Except Alistair, of course. He was leaning back in his chair, looking utterly satisfied at the madness that had erupted in the room. _Now imagine this but twenty times over, _his eyes seemed to say to her. _And you'll know what I've been through._

"I can't _believe _out of _all _the things you could choose from, you would choose _this_, Lourdes, you are – you are _amazing _and I love you and I've never –"

"I cannot imagine this will go over smoothly, but I'm proud that you chose this. Nevertheless, it's quite an ambitious idea and I'm not sure it's the best one to choose at this moment-"

"Are you _insane? _This will _never _get passed! There will be riots all over the-"

"Ah, well, as someone that has been in a situation they did not love, I respect your attempt to free those who are imprisoned. But don't forget to think about all who will oppose this. I'm not sure if-"

"That is wonderful! Marvelous choice, Lourdes, I could not have been so selfless with my choice of–"

"I think this will be a lot harder than you think -"

Lourdes tried to catch snippets of their outbursts, before putting up her hands to silence everyone. "Quiet! Enough! Stop!" she said. Surprisingly enough, they all did. "For those that support me, thank you. I'm not sure how many of you that is, since everyone was talking at once…"

"Me," Anders said. "Of course, me."

She smiled softly. "Of course you. And…" she trailed off, looking over her friends, trying to weed out which other voice of approval she had heard.

"I wholeheartedly approve of it," Leliana said, raising her hand up slightly to catch Lourdes' attention. "It's wonderful. Drastic change has not always been readily accepted in history, but… it needs to be done. And who better to do it than you?"

"Good point," Alistair said, clearing his throat at the head of the table. "People adore you. They're going to get angry and full of fear at this… but there's no one they're more ready to listen to than the Hero of Ferelden."

"Thank you," Lourdes said. She paused, picking her words carefully as she tried to explain her logic to those that weren't for the idea. "For everyone that doesn't think this is the right time or the right move, I want to try to explain. I'm not an idiot. This isn't some rash decision. I didn't wake up yesterday and think, 'Oh, I think I'm going to remove the templars and give every phylactery back to every mage.' I started thinking about this a long time ago."

"And when she says a _long _time ago, she means it," Alistair added. "When we first visited the Circle, seeking their help, she wanted to change it."

"I can't believe that during everything that was happening to the Grey Wardens, you actually stopped to think about what other injustice you needed to stop in the future," Wynne said quietly, reaching across the table to fold her soft and wrinkled hand over Lourdes'. "I am proud of you."

Lourdes smiled slightly as Leliana put her own hand on top of Wynne's. Anders followed, placing his free hand on top of the bard's. Alistair reached over, stretching to place the tips of his fingers atop the pile. Well, that was four people who approved of her plan. Only three more.

"When Alistair offered me a boon at the end of the ceremony, I thought about telling him right then and there what I wanted. But I didn't. I wasn't sure if it was really what I wanted or if I would need to use the boon one day for something important. So I waited. And _then_ I met Anders," A smile passed over her face and she glanced at the mage. "He was sarcastic and funny and opinionated and one of the most loyal people I had ever met. But he wasn't free."

Nathaniel cleared his throat loudly, causing all eyes to fall upon him. "I can understand that," he said after a moment, his hand going over Alistair's. "Freedom is something every man should have, be it from the history his ancestors have carved for him or an ability he didn't ask for."

"Oh, I would ask for it if I could," Anders said with a nod. "I love the fact that I can shoot fireballs wherever I want them to go. I just hate that everyone's either afraid of me or hates me because of it."

"Well said, both of you," Zevran said with a chuckle, adding his hand to the pile casually. "Who am I to deny freedom? Besides, if I had to choose how I died, being trampled by an angry mob caused by one of my friends is high on the list."

All eyes turned upon Sigrun, who snorted in her chair, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "No pressure," she said sarcastically, before reluctantly slapping her hand over Zevran's. "I'll do whatever you want to do. I just hope it doesn't get us run out of the country. I think I like Ferelden and I'd like to see it all someday."

She smiled, feeling suddenly very, very grateful that she had these wonderful friends. This could very well be a very bad decision that she would regret for the rest of her life… but everyone seemed to have faith in her. The smile stayed on her face throughout their breakfast, which everyone seemed to have forgotten when she had made her announcement.

They all stretched and said their momentary goodbyes. Though it was still early in the morning, they all had places to be and people to talk to. Or, in Leliana's case, they had marketplaces to scour for the perfect set of daggers or an embroidered bodice.

Anders threaded his arm through hers as they stood and made their way to the door of the dining room. Right before they exited the room, Alistair caught her arm. "Could I talk to you?" he questioned, his eyes moving from Lourdes to Anders.

"Uh, sure," Lourdes said slowly, before nodding to Anders. "Could you wait for me outside?"

"If you want," Anders said, removing his arm from hers. He paused as he pushed the door open. "Just a recommendation – I wouldn't have sex on the table, it might get into your hair."

Alistair blinked as Anders left the room. "What did he say? Something about sex?"

"Ha, ha," Lourdes said, her laugh completely devoid of any humor. "He's just kidding. Anders has a very, um, unique… sense of humor. Really. He was joking. What, uh, did you want to talk to me about?"

He offered her the chair she had just vacated. "Want to take a seat?" he questioned.

"Alistair, I'm not going to like this talk, am I?" she questioned, sinking down into the chair with a moan. "You're not _pregnant_, are you? Friends _tell _friends if they're pregnant, Alistair. I mean, _really, _you are a _king_, I thought you would have been careful…"

"Oh, ha, that's very funny. Do you remind _all _the royal bastards you know about how careful they need to be about unwanted pregnancy?"

"No, just you."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Jesting aside, though. I need to ask you something."

"Ask away."

He paused, unsure about how to proceed into what he was about to ask her. "You're… very good at impromptu speeches. I couldn't help but notice. You made that all up at the table, didn't you?"

"Yes, and thanks, I'm glad you noticed," she said, but the smile disappeared from her face. It was replaced with suspicion – why was he complimenting her ability to make things up as she went along? "Wait, why? I'm good at making things up. So?"

"_So_," he said, folding his hands in his lap. "_I _think that _you _should be the one to tell Ferelden about your plan."

She snorted, standing from her chair. "I don't think so," she said, shaking her head and moving to the door. Or she would have, anyway, if Alistair hadn't caught her hand in his.

"I think so," he said. "You should do it. I meant what I said about the people loving you. Right now, you're a lot more popular than I am. I just signed a decree that would let the elves live wherever they wanted to. People… don't like the fact that I'm ruling."

"Look at it this way, Alistair," she said, trying to tug her hand free from his strong grip. "They can only get so angry. You should try to max out the angriness. Doing this would be the perfect way to find out where the level of angry bottoms out at."

"Lourdes," he said, standing and releasing her hand. She had forgotten how tall he was… he had at least six inches on her. "Don't make me play the king card."

Her eyes widened, anger sparking within them. _He _was going to play the king card? He didn't even _want _to be king! She only put him on the throne because Anora was… well, _Anora. _"You're only the king because _I _put you on the throne!"

"So?" he asked, patiently waiting for her to finish whatever argument she was going to make.

"I could have been queen right now if I wanted to be," she said after a moment, quite aware of how childish she must have looked with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Yes, but you're_ not_," he pointed out. "You're the Grey Warden Commander. So I outrank you. I hate to do this, Lourdes, but… as your king-"

"Don't do it, Alistair."

"_As your king, _I'm ordering you to prepare a speech."

"By when?" she asked through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to act very, very childish. A _speech? _She had to prepare a _speech? _He was king, he should have to do it. Lourdes was very much regretting coming to the palace. She should have just stayed in Amaranthine, where she wasn't ordered to do anything.

"In four days," Alistair said. He pushed his chair into the table, catching her hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips briefly. It was chaste and king-like and she would have been impressed if she was not so angry at him. "Thank you, Lady Warden-Commander."

"You are most welcome, Your Highness," Loudes managed to get out, before giving him one last scowl and pushing the door open. She nearly ran into Anders, who was waiting for her in the hall as promised.

"What's wrong?" he asked instantly, glancing back at the door. "Oh, no. Don't tell me that I have to shoot a fireball up the king's a-"

He was cut off in his swearing by Zevran, who suddenly appeared with a thoughtful expression on his tan features. "Do you have a moment? Can I interrupt?" he questioned, looking towards Anders. "I have something I want to discuss with you."

_Why _did everyone seem to want to talk to her on the same day within an hour? She hadn't been this popular before. "Uh, yes," she said after a moment, rubbing her fingers against her temple as she glanced at Anders. "I'll just meet you… um…"

"You can say 'in his room,'" Zevran assured her with a wicked laugh. "I'll cover my virginal ears. Would you _look _at the color in your cheeks! Don't blush so, Lourdes; I am not a twelve-year-old girl. I've heard vulgarities, I assure you."

Despite the Antivan's assurances that he had heard much worse, the blush stayed on her cheeks even after Anders had departed to her room. "What did you need?"

"I remember once you told me that I was welcome to come to Amaranthine with you and train the Grey Wardens. I was wondering if that offer still stands," he said, his expression carefully guarded. "I am… tired of being a Crow. I wish to pass on my skills to someone else, however. And who better to instruct than Grey Warden hopefuls?"

_That _threw her off guard. She had been expecting him to comment on her announcement that she had made at breakfast, not an inquiry to return to Amaranthine with her and Anders. "Oh."

"Is that a… good _oh _or a bad _oh?_"

"It's a surprised _oh_," she said honestly, her hand awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. "But if you want to come, you're welcome to accompany us back to the Keep. Amaranthine's really nice. I mean, Oghren's there, but…"

"I think I can relearn to ignore his stench," Zevran said, grinning. "This is excellent. Yes. I will have to go tell Leliana about this. For some reason, she did not think you would let me come with you…"

"Really? Why would she think that?"

"Oh, I don't know. I think she thought it would upset Anders to have me along with you. Nevertheless, I am going to go tell her. And perhaps collect some coin that I betted on your answer. I will talk to you later so we can discuss what I will be in charge of doing."

Zevran departed, then, gone as quickly as he had appeared in the shadows. Sometimes she forgot just how good of an assassin he was. Lourdes rubbed her head as she returned to her room. Though it was still late morning, she felt as if she had been awake for a day and a half. Hopefully she could sneak in a quick nap before she and Anders went out to explore the city and meet important people.

But… maybe napping wasn't what Anders had on his mind. She had barely closed the heavy door of her room when he caught her face in his hands, his fingertips pressing along her jaw. Her mouth was captured by his and her scarred back was pressed firmly against the door. "Mhfm!" she said, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"I love you," he muttered against her skin between forceful kisses. "I love you. I really do. And hearing you say that about the Circle just made me more in love with you. How is it possible that you're so… so…"

"So good at not dying?" she suggested as he moved them over to her bed. He fell on top of her as she was pressed into the soft blankets. "Really, that's all it is. I'm just very lucky that no decisions I've made have come back to bite me in the-"

"No, it's not that. You make great decisions. You do. I think this will work very well," he murmured, brushing her hair away from her face. "Your plan is going to be well-received. I can feel it. And, hey, if it's not… there's always memory charms that I could cast on every person in Ferelden!"

She laughed. "You would do that for me?"

"Absolutely," he said, grinning. "Now you have to do something for me, though. I have something to ask you."

"_Oh?_" Lourdes said, her mind conjuring images of the pair half-naked.

"Don't get all flustered and excited," Anders said flatly, taking her hand in his. He leaned back onto her bed, so they were laying side-by-side on the blankets. "It's something about Grey Wardens."

"Oh."

"Sorry to disappoint you. Anyway, you said that Grey Wardens never stop being Grey Wardens, not really."

She paused, looking over at him. Her head was propped up upon her elbow as she faced him. "Right. I did say that. You're always technically a Grey Warden, even if you leave the order. The taint can't be undone."

Anders looked thoughtful for a moment. "And… you _also _said that it's impossible for them to have children."

"Right. I said that, too."

"But… tell me," he said after a moment. He pulled her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. She was reminded of Alistair's kiss on her knuckles, though she wasn't sure _why. _They were completely different. His had been kingly and chaste, but Anders' kiss upon her skin made her heart race wildly. "Do Grey Wardens ever marry?"

She smiled widely, removing her hand from his lips. She rolled upon the bed, moving so that she was straddling his hips. "In a few cases, yes."

"I see," he said thoughtfully. His hand moved up, tracing the shape of her left cheek with the back of his right hand. "Are there any cases of Warden-Commanders marrying?"

"Not that I know of."

"_But _if there was the right Warden-Commander and the right Grey Warden mage," he said with a grin, tucking an escaped strand of her hair behind an ear. "I'm sure that could easily be rectified."

"Good," Lourdes said, leaning down to press her mouth to his.

* * *

AWW ANDERS YOU CHEESE BALL.

And sorry about the hands all being linked in the whole 'lemme convince you' breakfast thing. It was also cheesy. But it felt right. So I went for it.


	15. Chapter 15: The Speech

It turned out that Anders had a _ring_. When he initially produced it from one of the many pockets in his multicolored robes, it hadn't quite occurred to Lourdes what it was for. "Why are you carrying a ring around with you?" she questioned, examining the ring as he clumsily thrust it at her.

It was, in a word, lovely. Silver and intricate, it had obviously been constructed by a skilled crafter. A tiny blue stone was resting among the delicate silver branches of the ring, like an egg in a nest. It was warm in her hand, too, as she turned it over and over in her palm.

"I think it's probably because I just proposed to you," Anders said with a laugh, kissing her on the mouth once. The ring was removed from her palm and slid onto one of her fingers. "For someone so dumb, you've survived for a strangely long time so far. I'm starting to believe what you said about you just being horrible at dying."

"So this is _my _ring?" she questioned, her eyes locked on the ring. It was… nice. The weight and presence of the ring was foreign feeling, but she thought she could easily get used to it.

"No," he said sarcastically, shaking his head at her. "It's _Alistair's _ring. I just wanted to put it on you so that I could look at the fit… do you think he'll like it? I'm really excited because, you know, he is _so _wonderful looking…"

"You're lucky I agreed to marry you," Lourdes said after a moment, torn between laughing and hitting him. "Because I honestly don't think anyone else would."

"Believe me, I know how lucky I am. I'm marrying the most wonderful woman in the world and all I had to do was swallow some darkspawn blood, swear my lifespan away, and dive into endless amount of suicidal battles… wait… I think I might have gotten the short end of the stick."

She rolled her eyes at him, standing from the bed and tugging a sheet along with her. Her wardrobe was opened and the dresses that hung there were inspected carefully. She chose a blue one, thinking of the ring. _Her _ring. "I still can't believe you actually bought me a ring. What if I had said no?"

"I didn't precisely… _buy _the ring."

Lourdes gave him a sharp look, pulling the dress over her head. "I don't think you have the dexterity to steal it."

"Thanks for the confidence," he said, watching her get dressed. He tried to do it sneakily with his eyes half-closed, but he wasn't very good at fooling her. "I made it, actually."

"How did you learn how to make jewelry?"

"Not jewelry, specifically. Magical artifacts in general. You read some books, you practice some spells… it's not that hard."

"So did you make _all _of it or just the magical part?"

"All of it," he said, remarkably casual-sounding. Lourdes was thoroughly impressed with him as she looked down at the ring. He didn't _buy _the ring. He _made _it. For her. "With some help from one of the crafters at the Keep."

"You've had it _that_ long?" she asked incredulously, almost choking on her own spit. Anders had wanted to marry her for that long, since before they left the Keep. It had to be before that, even, since the metal crafter had left for Denerim two weeks before their party had departed…

"Yes," he said, shrugging. Then he frowned, a single word slipping from his lips. "Oh."

"What?" Lourdes asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She began to pull her hair over her knuckles, trying to braid the strands. It wasn't going to look beautiful or elegant or anything, but… it would at least look better than having her hair wild and free.

"It just occurred to me that I had a question to ask you," Anders said, sitting behind her on the bed. He pulled her hands out of her hair and instead began to do the braiding himself. Lourdes laughed.

"Been braiding hair long?"

"I've had a lot of different hairstyles," he explained reluctantly. "I… was a stupid and rebellious young mage. I once had my entire head shorn short except for a ridiculous looking strip down the middle. Now. My question."

"Was it a proposal? Because I thought the question was sort of implied even without the words _will you marry me_."

"An _implied _proposal? That's shifty sounding. Anyway, no, it didn't have to do with… that. It wanted to know what you were talking to Alistair about." She couldn't help but notice that his voice was casual sounding as he wound sections of braids together. Too casual, maybe.

"Are you jealous, Anders?" Lourdes questioned quietly. She had meant it to be a joking accusation – _jealous, Anders? Ha! _But it didn't come out like that. It came out in a much more honest way. She sounded somewhat bewildered at the fact that he still thought she harbored some sort of feelings for Alistair.

"Me? _Jealous_?" Anders asked incredulously, snorting with amusement. "Of course not. I just dislike kings in general. I hated the last one, too."

"The last _king _was Queen Anora, Anders."

"Oh," There was a pause as Anders realized that the last ruler of Ferelden _had _been Anora ruling as sole royalty after her husband's death. Before that it had been Cailan, whom it had been impossible to hate. "See, _that's_ why I hated her. You know what I say: if you lack man bits, don't call yourself a king. Don't avoid the question, though. Tell me the truth. You and Alistair were having wild sex, weren't you?"

"I was only talking to him for three minutes!" She laughed.

"Obviously you haven't met many of Oghren's former lovers," he said with a sigh. There was a slightly uncomfortable tugging on her hair. "I'm sure three minutes would sound like a lifetime to them."

The mental images she received after he spoke made her wince. "That's disgusting."

"Nevertheless…"

"Alistair wanted me to tell Ferelden that the templars will be removed from the Circle."

"Ouch. Look on the bright side! Five percent of Ferelden will absolutely _adore _you," he said cheerfully, reaching over to the side table to snag one of the strips of ribbon used to tie hair back. They were hers, she supposed, laid out by servants.

"Which means ninety-five percent will hate me. Lovely," she sighed, her eyes closing as he tied the end of her elaborate braid. She couldn't see it, but she patted it with her palm, feeling ridges of the braids press against her skin. "Thank you."

She was suddenly pulled into his lap, his voice low and hot in her ear. "Your optimistic side is driving me absolutely _wild _with passion right now," he informed her, rolling his eyes at her.

"Speaking of _wild with passion_," she said, smiling at his sarcasm. "Zev is coming with us when we return to Amaranthine."

"Should I be worried that Zevran comes to mind with that phrase?"

"Not really," Lourdes said, a shrug accompanying her words. She took Anders' hand in hers, tracing the ridges and lines of his palm with her fingertips.

"Strangely enough, I'm not. He seems to be a bit…" he stopped, searching for a word that would be both honest and unoffending.

"Flamboyant?" she suggested.

"_Exactly_!" he said, snapping the fingers on the hand that wasn't being traced. "He's not exactly subtle when it comes to flirting."

"Which is why you should be worried. He's not afraid to hit on people even if they're in relationships." A slight frown appeared on her face. He had flirted with her a while she and Alistair were beginning to take their first steps into a relationship… and a few times afterwards, too.

"Lourdes," he said, sounding exasperated, like he was trying to explain this to a small child. "If I thought outrageous flirting would work on you, it would have been done."

"Oh," was all she said after that, feeling a surge of feelings for the mage. If he thought she had liked outrageous flirting, he would have done it. _That _was why he hadn't initially flirted with her – because he knew it wouldn't impress her. (Truthfully, though, it would have flattered her a bit anyway.)

Lourdes added finishing touches to her outfit as Anders put on a clean robe and combed through his hair quickly with his fingers. There. No one would be the wiser of what had occurred after breakfast… except for her and Anders, of course.

He caught her hand right as she was starting to push her door open. "Wait." Lourdes' eyebrows were raised as he pulled the ring from her finger, twisting it neatly off and pocketing it.

"Are you trying to pick-pocket me?" she questioned with mock-offense on her face. "I _really _think you should let Nathaniel give you some lessons or something, because that was horrible. A drunken Oghren would have known you had taken something."

"And a drunken Oghren also would have known that we were engaged," Anders pointed out, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think we should keep this quiet. At least until you've told everyone that you're letting the mages go free."

"That makes sense," she admitted, feeling reluctant to let the ring leave her finger. "I might keep it as a secret weapon, though. In case they hate me. _So, we're releasing all the mages and getting rid of the templars and giving all the phylacteries back… but, hey, you're all invited to my wedding!_"

Anders snorted, taking her hand and leading her into the hallway. The smile on his face disappeared as he groaned, realizing something. "Andraste's knickerweasels, we'll have to invite people, won't we?"

"Generally, yes, people do invite friends and family to important things like-" Lourdes was cut off as the mage coughed loudly, nudging her as a servant passed them in the hallway.

"We probably shouldn't talk about this in public," he said, shaking his head. "Later, alright? Just remember. Secret. Don't run off and tell anyone…"

His warning was necessary. As soon as Lourdes saw Leliana and Zevran browsing around the Denerim market, the urge to tell them bubbled up into her throat. _I'm engaged! We're getting married! You should be there because I love you! _What actually came out was a lackluster and awkward sounding, "Oh, daggers. Do you guys, er, like daggers?"

They raised their eyebrows in unison, looking suspicious. Zevran studied her for a moment. "No," he said slowly. "Normally I deliver death by throwing Andraste's Grace at my targets and praying that they are allergic to pollen. Do you have something you want to tell us?"

"No," she said quickly. Maybe too quickly, because Leliana laughed slightly, shaking her head. Lourdes cleared her throat and amended, "Not right now."

Leliana found out soon anyway.

"You were planning to invite me, I hope," the redhead said casually the next day as they sat in one of the court yards. Lourdes was trying to write her speech that she planned on delivering in three days, but it wasn't working so well. The two women kept talking about things that weren't speech-related.

Lourdes looked up from the sheet of parchment, a flush spreading across her face. "Invite you to…?" she asked, her stomach twisting at Leliana's knowing expression.

"To your… you _know _what I am talking about, Lourdes," Leliana insisted, sighing. "Don't make me say it aloud. I am sure you can guess what I mean."

She didn't have to guess, not really. She _knew _what Leliana was talking about. And she knew who must have told the Orlesian. Her grip on the paper tightened. "Did he…?" she trailed off, her jaw clenched tightly. _He _had been the one to decide that they shouldn't tell anyone, yet he had told Leliana! "That _hypocrite!_"

"Calm down, Lourdes. He was not prancing through the hallways singing about how he was engaged. I… _might _have _accidentally _pried it from him," Leliana said hesitantly. "He was reluctant to tell me."

Lourdes pressed her fingers to her temples. "Did he reluctantly tell anyone else?" she questioned.

"No," Leliana said, shaking her head immediately.

"Don't lie to me."

The bard hesitated. "Anders did not tell anyone else. Not that I know of. But… _I _might have told someone. Zevran knows. I do not think he has told anyone else, however. He seemed to understand that it was supposed to be kept a secret."

"At least _someone _understood that," Lourdes muttered, standing from the courtyard bench. She stretched, placing her parchment on her empty seat. "I'll talk to you later. If you hear yelling, don't worry. Anders might have slipped and fell down a flight of stairs."

"Accidentally, of course."

"Of course."

It took a while to find the mage. Despite stopping to ask multiple servants and even Nathaniel and Sigrun, who were browsing the library collection, no one seemed to know where Anders could be found.

She was beginning to feel incredibly frustrated when she saw a familiar figure turn a corner in a hallway she just entered. "Zev!" she called out, before jogging to the end of the hall.

"Hello," he said, leaning against the stone wall and watching her jog to him. An apple passed idly between his palms. "Unless falling is your intent, I would not recommend running. I just watched a servant clean these floors."

"You _watched _someone clean floors?"

He paused, grasping for words. "Perhaps _watched _is not the right word. Observed, maybe. Glanced at. Whichever phrase suits you, the floors are still damp."

"Right. Do you know where Anders is at?" she questioned, leaning against the wall with him. It was uncomfortable to lean with half of her body against the stone and her legs angled out to the floor. She stopped, shifting from foot to foot.

"Why?" he questioned, noticing her impatience. "Oh. He's going to get yelled at, isn't he?"

"Maybe," she admitted, running a hand through her hair absently. "Do you know where he's at?"

He smiled slightly, before nodding. "I do. He's in the kitchen. At least, he was there ten minutes ago when I was there for… well, it's not important what I was there for. He should still be there. Alistair, too."

"Why is Alistair in the kitchen with Anders?" All sorts of situations were running into her head. Anders pressing Alistair for information about his past relationship with Lourdes… Anders telling Alistair they were _engaged… _Maker, none of them were very good. "Nevermind. Thank you. I'll see you later."

Zevran nodded, pushing off from the wall and biting into the apple. It was only then that it occurred to Lourdes that she had something to say to the Antivan, as well.

"Zev?"

He turned, chewing his mouthful of fruit and swallowing it before speaking. "Yes?"

She hesitated, trying to find a polite way to request that he kept the engagement a secret. There really wasn't one that didn't sound like an order or a downright _keep your mouth shut. _She _really_ needed to get better at getting her points across in a tactful way before she had to make her speech. "You… you understand that I don't want certain thingsto be known until after the speech is made, right?"

"I understand." A nod accompanied his words.

"You also understand that if I need someone to kill Anders for telling Leliana-"

"You'll come to me," Zevran said, interrupting with a wry smile on his tan face. "I understand that, as well, Lourdes."

"Thanks, Zev," she said with a grin. "I better go talk to Anders."

"Would you like a dagger to take with you?" he suggested, grinning as he produced some intricate and shiny silver daggers from… _somewhere. _She wasn't quite sure where. "I visited the marketplace again this morning. They have a wide array of wonderful throwing daggers. Perfectly balanced."

"Don't tempt me," she advised, her gaze lingering on the daggers before she shook her head. "See you later. And thanks, again."

The kitchen was on the other side of the palace and a floor beneath where she had been searching, but it didn't take her long to get to it. The kitchen was empty except for the two men. Alistair and Anders were talking when she entered, but fell silent upon seeing her face. The king let out a low whistle. "Someone's in trouble."

"Someone _is _in trouble," Lourdes confirmed, her eyes locked onto the Grey Warden mage. "_Anders._"

He groaned. "What did I do this time?" he questioned, standing and attempting to reach for her hand. She tugged it from his grasp.

"Oh, I don't know," she said sarcastically, taking the seat he had vacated. "You were supposed to be keeping some sort of secret… and you _didn't_."

Anders thought for a moment, before his mouth opened into an _o _of shock. "She said she wouldn't tell anyone!" he claimed, shaking his head. "I guess _anyone _didn't mean _you. _That woman is tricky. Lourdes. I'm sorry. She promised that she wouldn't tell anyone."

"And obviously _that _went over well," she said, her arms crossing over her chest. "You're so hypocritical, Anders. _You're _the one that wanted to not say anything and here you are telling the first person you-"

"Wait, wait," Alistair stood from his chair, holding up a hand to stop her from speaking. He glanced at Anders and then back at Lourdes. "What secret is he talking about?"

Lourdes pressed her lips together. "Well, _I _can't tell you because _I _promised. But you might want to ask Anders, because he has no problem telling anyone anything they want to know."

"_Lourdes,_" Anders said with a sigh, shaking his head. "Does it really matter if she knows? You were going to tell her anyway. I meant we shouldn't tell the _people_, not your friends. Don't you-"

"_Alright_," Alistair said, his voice loud over Anders'. "If someone doesn't tell me what you're talking about, I'm going to-"

"We're engaged."

It was Lourdes who spoke and it was Lourdes that received the first rib-crushing hug from the king. "That's… well, congratulations! When are you…?"

"No idea," the Warden-Commander admitted when Alistair released her. She laughed as he hugged Anders, who looked pained and uncomfortable by the tight grip Alistair had on him. "You'll come?"

"Of course," he said, looking surprised that he had bothered to ask her if he would attend. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know," she said slowly, shaking her head. "I just thought… uh, you know. You're king. You might have more important things to do."

"More important things than watch the Hero of Ferelden get married?" he questioned, before something occurred to him. He groaned, pushing a hand into his hair. "Maker, you're the _Hero of Ferelden. _Your wedding is going to be huge, isn't it?"

"Probably. We haven't really figured out who we're inviting," Anders said after a moment, stepping to put an arm around her waist. "Or where it's going to take place."

"Oh. Well, I should leave you two to figuring that out," Alistair said, smiling as he began to push the door of the kitchen open. "I have-"

"Kingly business to take care of?" Anders suggested.

"Exactly."

Figuring out the details to their upcoming wedding was a lot harder than Lourdes had initially suspected they would be. For one, she had no idea where they could be married. She could imaging herself getting married at every location she had been to. Each situation was different, each one was tempting.

The engaged couple didn't get to contemplate the location of their wedding for long, however. It didn't take long for the Warden-Commander to remember that she did, in fact, have a speech to plan.

It took her the next day to write it and the day after that to rehearse and memorize the short speech. She was suddenly very grateful that she hadn't needed to present a speech before the battle in Denerim… it might have gone very badly. Lourdes kept tripping over the pre-written speech – who knew how she might have done with an impromptu one?

"You've got to relax," Nathaniel told her one day, gripping her shoulders and making her face him. "Take a breath, Lourdes. These people don't want you dead. They love you. They really do. It will be like talking to me or Sigrun or Anders or any one of your friends. Remember that."

It wasn't like that at all. On the day she was supposed to make her speech, she stood just inside of the palace and was able to hear the roar of the crowd as Alistair went outside. They quieted as he said something to them – she couldn't hear _that_ – but she could hear the loud cheering as he finished saying whatever he had been saying. Good. At least they weren't angry yet.

"Look for me in the crowd," Anders told her, pressing his mouth against hers. "I'll be there. We'll all be there, Lourdes. Er, except for Alistair, anyway. He obviously won't be in the crowd, but…"

"I'll look for you," she told him with a small grin, feeling like throwing up or running away or perhaps throwing up while running away. "If I faint, distract people so that they don't see."

"Finally, the perfect opportunity for Anders' Spicy Shimmy."

She laughed as he kissed her temple once, before hugging her tightly. They both froze as there was an increase in the amount of applause. An armored guard leaned over from his post at the door, awkwardly tapping the Warden Commander's shoulder.

"Excuse me, but I believe they're ready for you now…"

"Right," she breathed, her heart skittering. She could make speeches in front of guards and soldiers just fine… she could speak to her friends just fine… she could address anyone _but _a large group of judging citizens.

And, _Maker, _was the group large. She stepped outside, shielding her brown eyes from the sunlight. They adjusted to the increase in light and focused on the sea of people. "Maker," she muttered quietly, going to stand beside Alistair at the small guarded area of the steps. "Is this all of Ferelden?"

"No, actually, I think it's just a small portion of Denerim," the king told her, smiling slightly. "Remember. They love you. We all do. Just… do your best. Tell them what you told everyone at the breakfast table that morning."

Right. Except that had been a small group of people she loved, not _this. _Still, Lourdes guessed she would never feel more ready and prepared than she did now. She had been reciting her speech to Nathaniel over and over to make sure she had it memorized forwards and backwards. It was now or never.

"Hello," she began awkwardly, holding up a hand to signal that the crowd should cease their cheering. To her surprise, they did, though it took a few seconds for things to settle down. "Everyone must be wondering what I'm doing here. I'm here today because a boon was promised to me by our king. Although I initially didn't claim it, because I was unsure of what I wanted, I now know what needs to be done.

"In Ferelden, with all of its countryside and the ever-charming Korcari Wilds… the real thing worth saving is the people. From the humblest citizen to the richest denizen, _everyone_ is worth saving._ Everyone_ is deserving of freedom, be it from the Blight or invading nations or from each other. This is why the Circle of Magi is becoming independent of the templars. Their phylacteries will be returned to those who they belong to. The mages have earned the right to watch over themselves. They have earned our trust."

There was a murmur in the crowd, though there were no major outbursts like she thought there would be. There was no yelling or throwing of things or torch-lighting or pitchfork rising. There was just… people listening to her.

Lourdes licked her lips and took a breath. "There is good and bad in everyone. It's unfair to lock away every person that possesses the gift of magic simply because some have chosen to give in to temptation and their darker side. Not one of the mages chose to have their gift. They were simply… born that way. It's like locking away everyone that has brown hair. It's unfair.

"We sell swords and weapons on every street corner, supplying murderers with the tools they need to kill their next victim. Would you have me lock away all those who own swords? No. Because they're needed to protect and defend everything we hold. It is the same with the mages. They can help. They can live and love and defend. They just need the chance.

"This is their chance. This is what I have chosen. I hope Ferelden will feel the same way… because I love this country and I love everything it is… and I want to be there as it grows and changes for the better with the acceptance of this boon."

She finished, took a breath, and stepped a few feet away from the spot where she had made her speech. There was no yelling, but a small ripple of applause went through the crowd. It was reluctant sounding and quiet, but it was the sound of approval and not anger.

* * *

The end of this chapter feels rushed to me. But the more I think about it, the more I like it. Because, really, what was I supposed to write about those three days? Lourdes was writing her (horribly written) speech. She ate with friends. She wrote some more. Boring. Her speech skills are sort of... lacking. Anyway.

You should go check out my Dragon Age story blog! There's a link at the bottom of my profile. C: It has snippets of stories I haven't posted here on

Also, I'm writing a Zevran spin off from this story that will tell what he was doing in the kitchen. I need some help deciding with names, though, so go to my blog and vote.


	16. Chapter 16: the Planning

When Lourdes realized that she and Anders were going to have to plan their wedding eventually, she breezily shrugged it off, thinking it would be easy. Weddings didn't have _that _many factors to plan. All they had to do was pick clothing, location, and guests, right? Easy. It would take up a day of her time… tops. Maybe even half a day, if they got down to business and didn't get, erm… distracted by each other.

Lourdes was wrong.

Just picking a dress was ridiculously complicated, especially when she realized that buying a wedding dress might tip off the citizens of Ferelden that she was getting married. Lourdes nearly let the secret tumble from her lips as she and Leliana stepped outside of the castle walls a week after the freeing of the mages, seeking a dress.

"We'd like to see your selection of wedding dresses, please."

The chubby tailor's head immediately whipped around, his eyes sparkling. "Warden-Commander? Who is getting married? If – if I might ask, I mean, my lady."

"I-" Andraste, she was worse at keeping a secret than Anders was! She wouldn't ever chide him for telling Leliana that – wait. _Leliana. _Lourdes grabbed the woman by the waist, steering her over to the tailor. "I would like to introduce you to Leliana. She is getting married."

"Oh," he said, visibly slumping. "I see."

Leliana smoothly continued the lie, with much more grace and tact than Lourdes had begun it with. "Yes," she said, her smile charming. "And, actually, we do not need to see wedding dresses, merely browse your collection of fabrics. I have an aunt from Orlais who made me promise that she could be the one to sew my dress. It's a tradition."

The Warden-Commander had no idea if Leliana was telling the truth or not when it came to Orlesian traditions. Apparently, neither did the tailor, as he led them to the back room, where bolts and bolts of cloth were propped up on walls and lying across tables. "This is what we have in stock, my lady. Please, don't hesitate to call me if you need any help with prices or measuring."

"We will." Another charming smile, before he left them alone in the room.

It might not have been the best idea. Leliana whirled on Lourdes. "_You_," she began, eyes sparking with anger. "Do not know how to keep your mouth shut. It is a good thing that you are marrying Anders – the two of you can yell your secrets from the top of Mount Jisvek!"

"Don't hit me. And anyway, what was I supposed to tell him? Oh, let us look at your wedding fabrics, but we're not actually getting married… how stupid do you think he is? A drunken monkey wouldn't believe that."

Leliana gestured to the bolts of cloth around them. "They keep all of the material in the same room, Lourdes. We could have said that we were looking for a green fabric and he still would have brought us back here to look. We could have then looked at the nicer fabrics and picked one of those out, saying we were saving it for a special occasion."

"…Oh."

She snorted. "I will do the talking from now on. Stand over there."

Lourdes obediently stood in a corner of the room, watching Leliana float from one bolt of cloth to the next. She rubbed her fingers over it, holding it up to a candle light to see how thick and well-made it was. Sometimes, when she found a material that met her expectations, she would hold it against Lourdes' skin, mentally stowing away which ones looked good and which ones did not.

It was a long process, but the Grey Warden Commander didn't complain. Leliana knew what she was looking for, so she had been the best choice. The two hadn't been particularly close during the Blight, since Lourdes had always taken Alistair, Zevran, and Wynne with her on her travels. Everyone else had remained back at camp, doing Maker knew what.

But Alistair couldn't be asked to go dress shopping for… obvious reasons. He was the king, her ex-lover, utterly horrible at picking out _socks _that matched, never mind dresses… the list went on and on. Wynne was perpetually busy nowadays, always bustling from one place to the other. Lourdes saw her at meals, but she always disappeared soon after.

Zevran… she had approached him to at least _offer _the chance to go with her. He had dismissed her with a wave of his hand, though, his eyes on one of the servants. "Why does what you are wearing matter?" he questioned impatiently. "It's what's _underneath _that he's going to –"

She had left the Antivan and his wicked grin, seeking out Leliana instead.

"I believe that we made some remarkable progress today," Leliana said cheerfully. "Tomorrow we can pick out Anders' things. What color robes do you think he'd like to wear? I would rather he wear a fine tunic and pants, but I do not think he could be persuaded to wear them…"

"Wait, wait," Lourdes said, holding up her hand to stop the bard. At least, she _would _have held it up, if it hadn't been weighed down by the heavy packages they both carried. It was a half-hearted signal to stop. "I can't pick out Anders' clothes for him. He needs to do that himself."

"Lourdes. Anders has a ponytail. He should not be allowed to dress himself for a wedding."

Lourdes laughed, considering telling Anders what Leliana had said about his ponytail. But as she entered her room (his room, their room, it was all the same now) and saw the look of concentration and exhaustion on his face, the idea of teasing him about his hair was washed away.

"I told you to make a guest list because I thought it would be easy," she said, trying to sound sympathetic as she sat her purchases down on the floor. "I didn't realize it would take you all day."

"Neither did I," he grumbled, looking over the long list of potential guests he had made. "However, Alistair somehow got involved in the process. Remind me to never work in a public place again. He was looking over my shoulder the entire time, telling me to not forget Teagan or Dagna or Bella or any number of the obscure people you've met during your many, many adventures."

Ouch. She supposed it _would _be difficult to make a guest list… she had met so many people the last few years and had received assistance from a large portion of them, too. "I'm sorry. I thought it would be easy, Anders."

He sighed dramatically, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her down onto his lap. "It's _alright_, I _suppose_," he said. "I just think I'll hate having a wife that's so much more popular than I am. I have a question, though."

"Yes?"

"Do you want to invite Nathaniel?"

She blinked at him, looking surprised. "Yes, absolutely. I know you two aren't best friends, but I've known Nathaniel for a long time. He's helped us in tight spots. Not inviting him would just be rude, especially when the rest of the Grey Wardens are going to be invited."

"You haven't known Nathaniel for a long time. You've known him for the same amount of time that I have," Anders protested, looking displeased. "You _met _him when you were a child, sure, but you didn't really _know _him until after he tried to kill you."

Lourdes shrugged. "A _lot _of people have tried-"

"_Yes, _I _know_, don't think for one second I have forgotten that marrying you might be the death of me," Anders said, shushing her. "A lot of people have tried to kill you. But when most people have an assassination attempt carried out on them, they either kill the assassin or lock him up for eternity. You take a third route and make _friends _with them and invite them to your wedding. You are just…"

She grinned. "Too forgiving?"

"_Yes,_" he sighed, sounding exasperated. "Exactly. You are too forgiving. It's annoying, sometimes. I think it's going to be the thing that kills you, too. Anyway, away from the talk of death and back to the topic of alcohol poisoning. Do you think we should invite Oghren? I don't really cherish the idea of getting drunken vomit all over my wedding clothes, but…"

Lourdes laughed. "I don't think we could invite every Grey Warden _except _Oghren without him figuring it out."

"You think he'd figure it out? Have you _met _Oghren?" he asked incredulously. "I think we could pull it off if you change your mind."

"Is there anyone from the Circle you want to invite?"

He snorted. "I think I'll pass."

Lourdes slid off of Anders' lap, lifting up his list of guests and reading over it quickly. "Leliana," she said, realizing that they had forgotten the redhead. To her surprise, Anders didn't write it down when she passed the list back to him.

"You're joking," he said incredulously, an eyebrow arching as he waited for her to say something like, 'Yes! You caught me! I am joking!'

"Why would I be joking?"

"She's sort of…" A hand twirled in the air as he grasped for the phrase he was looking for. "Off the deep end. Not playing cards with a full deck. Missing a puzzle piece. Jostled. Touched. Missing a brick. Skipping down insane lane. Not-"

"Leliana is _nice,_" Lourdes protested, snatching the piece of paper from him. She took his quill, too, writing down _Leliana _in her small and cramped handwriting.

"Funny, she looked more like _crazy,_" Anders said with a snort. "But alright, whatever you want. We've got a massive list of people to invite… I'm not sure everyone will be able to fit in our ideal marriage location."

"I don't think there would be a location big enough to fit everyone we're inviting," she said slowly. "Unless we could get married in the middle of a field, surrounded by other fields that are bordered by more fields."

"Well said."

"Thank you."

"Speaking of marriage location… have you thought about it? At all?"

Lourdes nodded, going to recline upon her bed. Anders followed her moments later, his head using her stomach as a pillow. "I've thought about it a lot," she said slowly, her fingers slowly sifting through his hair, pulling it loose from his ponytail. "I just can't find the right place."

"You've traveled all over Ferelden and you can't find the right place?" he asked incredulously. "Which places did you decide weren't right?"

"Orzammar would be nice, but I'm afraid the dwarves wouldn't like so many surfacers coming into their world. It's also pretty far out of the way," Lourdes said, her eyes closing as she tried to remember each place she had rejected. "The Brecilian Forest… so many people wouldn't even travel there.

"Ostagar would be symbolic and nice, but again – how many people would travel that close to the Wilds? Not many. Denerim is… cramped, I think, for a wedding. Lovely and bustling and lively, but… cramped. I've run into the same issues everywhere. I think Redcliffe would be the best place. It's in the center of the country, it's large, it's-"

"Completely impersonal," Anders said flatly, catching her hand. "You hate Redcliffe. Why would you want to get married there?"

"I don't _hate _Redcliffe. I just… there are a lot of bad memories there," she said slowly. It wasn't exactly true. There were a lot of _good _memories there… ones that involved Alistair and his romantic lines. Honestly, she didn't want to be thinking about Alistair during her wedding to Anders. "But it's big enough for everyone."

"You want to get married in a place that's big but… you hate," he said, shaking his head. He removed her hand from his hair, pressing his lips to it. "We're not getting married at Redcliffe."

"Then _where _can we get married, Anders? There aren't exactly dozens of places in Ferelden that are _big_ enough and-"

"What about Highever?" Anders asked carefully. His voice was quiet and hesitant, but clearly he had been thinking about it for a while. "I think… I think if you could do it, we should get married there."

Lourdes was surprised at the flood of feelings that came with the name of her former home. "I don't know," she managed to get out. Highever was… the name conjured up images of flame and blood and betrayal. Anger and hurt bubbled up inside of her mind. She didn't want to feel that on her wedding day. She was about to refuse, when different images started rising.

Her mother was fighting bravely, her parents telling her that they loved her. Oren was being born and tucked into blankets and handed to his adoring father. Dog was a puppy, running through the halls and barking happily. She was sparring with Ser Gilmore. And… Duncan was recruiting her into the Grey Wardens, starting a journey that would take her to love. "It's perfect," she responded finally, feeling a small grin pull across her face.

Anders sat up, pulling her into his lap again. He cradled her to his chest, his chin resting atop her dark hair. "Are you sure? Because we could get married at Redcliffe. I might even get married at the Tower if you ask nicely enough."

She smiled. "I'm sure. Anyway, the wedding isn't for a while. Leliana thinks we should wait a year and a half to get every detail perfectly hammered out… I think two months is plenty of time."

"A year and a _half_?" Anders questioned incredulously. "What sort of details need a year and a half to figure out? Is she insane? No, wait, don't answer that. _I _know the answer to it, but evidently _you_-"

"Leliana is not insane. She's nice. She's thoughtful. She's one of my friends. And she just… tends to think that plans need to take a very, very long time to be done perfectly. Be nice to her."

Anders grumbled, but he muttered a promise into her hair, as well. It was something half hearted, like a reluctant, _I'll try_. But it was a promise, so Lourdes was satisfied. She was also satisfied that a few days later, when Alistair asked to talk to her privately, Anders merely shrugged and said he'd wait for her in the courtyard. Well, no. He lifted her knuckles to his lips, kissed them briefly, and _then _said he'd wait for her in the courtyard.

Alistair was grinning slightly as they sat down; he in his chair, she in hers, with a desk between them. "He really loves you, doesn't he?"

"Nope. Oghren bet him a thousand sovereigns that he wouldn't marry me. So he's doing it. We hate each other. Frankly, I'm just in it for the money."

"Funny."

"I like to think so. Anyway, uh, yes, he really loves me."

A flicker of something quickly shot over Alistair's face. Lourdes wasn't sure what the emotion was; she wasn't sure she had ever seen it on his face before. "I'm jealous," he said quietly after a moment, lifting a hand to rub his temples.

_No, you're not. I've seen jealousy on you before and that emotion wasn't jealousy. _"Why are you jealous? Alistair," she said quietly, reaching over the desk. She pulled his hand away from his face, holding it in both of hers. "If you want to borrow Anders on weekends, I'm sure we can work something-"

"Can't you ever be serious?" he questioned, though a small twitch at the corner of his lips told Lourdes that her joke had worked.

"I'm sorry. Of course I can. Do you want to talk about what you're jealous about?" His expression was amused now and Lourdes knew why. She was talking like… like _Wynne _or someone else who was very good at the being concerned thing. Normally, she left people alone to work out their issues or forced them out of the person; coaxing wasn't her style.

"I'm jealous of _you_. Not because you have Anders," he paused, hesitating. "But because you have… I don't know… _someone_, I guess. So quickly. I didn't think many romance opportunities would come for the Warden-Commander, but here you are… about to be married. And I… I'm the _king. _I get women thrown at me every day and I'm closer to a public execution than marriage!"

"Oh, don't be silly. They would never make your execution _public_. It'd be a private thing, in a dungeon somewhere."

"Lourdes."

"_Alistair._ I didn't mean to fall in love with Anders. I really didn't. It was an accident. I'm just… stupidly lucky. I wasn't batting my lashes at him between strokes of my sword – you _know _how horrible I am at flirting."

He gave her a small grin. "I remember. _Have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?_"

"Oh, shut up. Was this meeting just made so that you could ridicule my skills of seduction?"

Alistair paused. "I wouldn't exactly call them _skills_ -"

She stood, wrenching her hand away from his. "I'm leaving," she announced, trying to stomp dramatically to the door. But he caught her hand in his, laughing as he tried to pull her back to her seat. And, despite herself, she was laughing, too. "Alright. Alright. What was this about, then?"

"A few things, actually," he said, clearing his throat and trying to retrieve his kingly demeanor. A small piece of scrap parchment was lifted up from his desk. "I made a list, look. Number one: the reaction of your boon. It's… surprisingly good. Not many people hate it enough to publicly rebel against it. There are a few revolts, of course, but not many."

"Oh, good. I'm so glad my decision has only caused a _few _outbreaks of rebellion instead of the usual twenty or so."

Alistair ignored her, talking as if she hadn't interrupted him at all. "The templars are finding jobs easily enough. With the countryside free of darkspawn, many are returning to Lothering and the surrounding fields. This means towns are being built, which means that templars and guards and various other occupations are needed in those areas."

Relief washed over her. People were angry, of course she had expected that. They were afraid, which meant they lashed out with anger. But they weren't angry enough to try and burn down the palace or attack her in the streets. This was good. And the templars were able to get jobs, too, which had been another concern of hers.

"Number two… oh, for the love of Andraste, I can't read my own handwriting… Okay. Number two. Once you're married, you'll have a few decisions to make regarding your position within the Grey Wardens."

She blinked. "I assumed that we could continue being Grey Wardens?"

Surprise spread across his features. "Oh, uh, of course. I just thought you might want to… nevermind." He cleared his throat noisily. "That's all I have, then, if you-"

Lourdes frowned, shaking her head at him. "No, wait. You thought I might want to what? Finish your sentence, Alistair."

"I just thought you might want to… stop. Fighting, I mean. Directing armies and everything. Maker knows you've done your share of fighting. Tenfold your share, probably. If you wanted to step down from your post and just live in the country somewhere, I wouldn't blame you at all."

Oh. Lourdes stared at him for a moment, before her own throat was cleared. "Oh. I just… I don't know. Never really thought about just… stopping." It seemed too simple. She could just step down and go live in the country, away from fighting and commanding and that would be the end of that?

It was tempting. Oh, it was tempting. She could sleep in and lay in golden fields all day with Anders, laughing and kissing and spending the rest of her life in pure bliss. But what about the world beyond the property markings of their fields? What would be happening to it?

"I can't abandon Ferelden like that," Lourdes said. "You can't know how tempted I am to accept your offer and run and tell Anders right now, but… I want to see this through. I want to finish what I started. I want to help my country as much as I can, even if that means I'll never get a quiet country life."

His eyes became unfocused as he sat there and thought, letting her words flow through his mind. After a few seconds, he nodded, his eyes snapping back onto her face. "Right. I can understand that. Doing your duty, even if it means not having your ideal life."

She surveyed his fine clothing and the crown lazily sitting on his head. "I imagine you can," she said slowly. Alistair had never wanted to be king. But he had been the only option, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness and his much-loved position within the Grey Wardens. Guilt washed over her. She had caused this. "You said you were finished with your list?"

"Oh, er, yes… it was a short list."

"Good. Because it's my turn to talk. Oh, don't look so afraid, I'm not springing any more boons on you," Lourdes smiled slightly, standing. "I just… want you to know that you'll find her soon. And you'll be happy, because you're too good to end up any other way. And then you'll be married and having hordes of children and you'll name the most stubborn one after me."

The king stood, as well, going around his desk. His voice was soft and quiet as he reached for her. "Thank you," he said. Their embrace was odd-feeling, with his hands on her waist as he hugged her close. His lips chastely touched her forehead for the briefest moment. "Goodbye, Lourdes," Alistair murmured, releasing her. A strange feeling lingered in her as she nodded, slipping out of his door."

Only when she was walking to the courtyard did she realize _why _the embrace felt so odd. It was because it was the goodbye she had been waiting for. The Warden-Commander and the king had never really said _goodbye _to each other and their romantic relationship when she had announced that he would rule alone. Instead, they had both awkwardly nodded at each other, because they both knew what it meant.

But this… _this_ was goodbye. It was official and heavy-feeling. It was raw and it hurt a little, to know that she had been living all this time without this official closure, but it made her feel better. Because Alistair would be okay and she would be okay and if they somehow weren't, they would still be there for each other.

* * *

This was weird to write. I don't know. At least it's here, haha. Tell me if it's weird? And also, I'm pretty sure the next chapter is the actual last chapter! Seriously! And you guys'll get to see Sten and Shale and everyone else you've been missing.


	17. Chapter 17: the End

Originally this chapter was a lot shorter, but I decided that now is the end and that means it's not the time to skimp out and hurry something.

* * *

Lourdes, Anders, their friends and a slew of guards left Denerim a month and a half later, with Anders muttering that he felt glad to get away from the smell of stink and people and wet dogs. Lourdes wasn't exactly sure what _she _felt and that struck her as a little odd. Weren't brides generally thought of as being excited or nervous? When her brother had married Oriana, she had shown up with worry shadows beneath her eyes and nails bitten short. That was the moment that Lourdes had really begun to like her soon to be sister-in-law. Before the noble lady had shown up, she had just been a name. Oriana: the woman that Fergus was marrying. With her nervousness and her need of Teyrna Cousland's reassurances, she became human.

Lourdes wasn't feeling at all like Oriana had. Her stomach wasn't fluttering and her nails were as long as they had been six months ago. (This wasn't very long, since it was hard to grip a sword and fight when your nails kept getting caught and breaking on things.)

This changed as they approached Highever, growing closer every day. She wasn't excited or nervous. She was… _fearful. _The identification of the emotion came as a surprise; she had killed ogres and darkspawn and the archdemon and Andraste knew what else, but she was scared of a _building? _Of her _home?_

She realized a few hours later that she wasn't scared of her home. She was scared of the memories that she associated with home. Sure, there were good ones: she and Fergus running through the halls. Her nephew being born. Her fighting lessons. But it seemed that for every good memory she had, there was a dark one looming near it. Oren and his mother were dead – she could still clearly see their bodies in their room just as she could still see her mother cradling the teyrn, begging Lourdes to go with Duncan.

What if when she finally got home, there were bloodstains on the wall? What if there was soot and ashes in the places there had been fire? Or pieces of destroyed wall still crumbling? Immediately, guilt washed over Lourdes. That wouldn't be what happened. Her brother was teyrn now and there was no way that Fergus would let his sister return home to something like that.

She was right. When they arrived at her home, climbing upward over a sloping hill, Lourdes could immediately see that everything was simultaneously the same and different. Much of the original structure of her home still stood; she could only find a few patches in the stone that didn't quite match the rest of the castle. The grounds were decorated differently, though, and Lourdes was particularly glad about that. Fergus hadn't tried to recreate his childhood; he had created a new home where new memories would be welcome.

"I like the flowers," Lourdes said as they entered the gate, her fingers brushing over a thick bush of purple flowers. "This place is beautiful."

"Welcome home, my lady," one of the guards said, smiling at her. Lourdes glanced up from the flowers, surprised to see a familiar face. It took her a moment for her to realize _why _he looked so familiar – he was one of the templars from the Tower! Her eyebrows raised and the surprise on her face made him laugh. "I've gotten similar reactions from everyone. I think I'll enjoy being in your brother's employment, my lady."

"I'm glad you found employment elsewhere," she said, half-expecting him to curse her for making him lose his position. But… he didn't. He looked rather cheerful, which was a stark contrast from the usual glum expressions of many of the templars. He was tan, too, which must be a change for him. "I'm sure you'll be a great addition to his guards."

"Teyrn Cousland is waiting for you in the main hall," the guard said, pointing her and Anders down a hallway. This struck her as odd – she had grown up in this household. Though she had not set foot in it in two years, she still remembered every detail. Lourdes hardly thought she needed to have the way pointed out to her.

She gave the guard a smile anyway, her fingers linked with Anders' as they walked through the hallways.

"This is where you grew up," Anders said slowly, letting out a low whistle. "Well, it's no Tower, that's for sure. I think my home had a better view. More books, too. Andmore glares…"

She elbowed him in the ribs as they entered the main hall. Fergus was sitting at one of the tables that had been arranged in the room, going over some sort of book. As the door shut behind them, he stood and grinned widely. He crossed the room quickly, embracing his sister.

"Lourdes!" he breathed. After releasing her, he hugged Anders as well. "And Anders! My little sister, engaged to be married. And the Grey Warden Commander, as well… our parents would be happy for you, Lourdes."

She smiled. "They'd be happy for you, as well, Fergus. Oh, pardon me, ser, I meant_ Teyrn Cousland_."

Fergus grinned widely. "It's odd, isn't it? I've held the title for a while now and I still don't look up when someone calls for Teyrn Cousland. Ah, well. I suppose I'll get used to it in time."

"If not, people can just throw things at you when they seek your attention," Lourdes said with a matching grin. "Like heavy rocks. Or pointy weapons."

"I don't think people would dare throw rocks and weapons at me, with my fearsome little sister and her band of friends to protect me. How did you get a Qunari to follow you into battle?" Fergus asked, sitting down on the edge of his desk. He crossed his arms, a habit that their father used to have.

"A Qunari? How do you know about Sten?" she questioned, and then felt foolish. Of course. Fergus had been present at the end of the battle and her friends had been there as well. "I sort of… swayed him into doing it."

"I thought so. The other day I asked him how and he wouldn't tell me exactly how you did it, though."

"He's not one for conversations," Lourdes agreed. "He was in a cage in Lothering when-"

"Wait," Anders said, cutting her off. He glanced from Lourdes to her brother. "You asked him the other day? Where exactly were you a few days ago?"

"I was here," Fergus said slowly, looking confused. He glanced to a guard in a corner, who shrugged at him. "Did no one tell you? Your friends, Lourdes – they're here. They've been here for quite some time, actually. I'm sorry – I thought you knew, otherwise I would have told you right away."

"My friends?"

Anders laughed, taking Lourdes' hand. "Why is it that you always look so surprised when people tell you that you have friends? I can see I'll have to take this over. Brother of Lourdes – Fergus, right – where are her friends at in the castle?"

"Depends on which friend you're looking for. The golem – er, Shale, sorry – is outside, around the walls of the castle. Sten is at the guard post."

"Well," Anders said, looking down at Lourdes. He turned her toward the door, giving her a little push. "Go find them. I'm going to talk to your brother for a bit, alright? Give Sten my love. I've never met him, but he sounds like he'd need it."

She nodded, grinning as she kissed Anders briefly on the cheek. She rounded a corner of her home, her legs taking her automatically through the castle. It really wasn't like she had imagined it would be… there were no signs of any sort of struggle, beside the mismatched stones. As she grew closer to the guard post, she realized that Fergus had been right about Sten's location; she could hear his voice carrying down the hallway.

"You. A man in familiar colors approaches the gate, holding up a hand in greeting. You can see he is well-armed. What do you do?"

"I, uh…"

"Dead. You are dead. You waited, he drew a poisoned throwing dagger and you are now dead. Next. _You. _You are on watch and a man comes behind you, pulling a string taut against your throat. You are dying as he strangles you. What do you do?"

"Well, uh, I would-"

Lourdes opened the door of the guard post, oddly amused by what she saw. The qunari was standing close to one of the guards, who looked extremely uncomfortable and intimidated. Behind him was a sort of line – probably organized by the qunari as he interrogated one after the other.

"Sten!"

The qunari turned, stepping away from the group of guards as he saw Lourdes was in the room. "Shanedan, Kadan," he said with a slight nod. "It is quite unfortunate that your wedding day coincides with rain."

Lourdes blinked at him. Rain? What was he talking about? She had just been outside and there wasn't a cloud in sight… everything was blue and perfect looking. But she didn't particularly want to contradict Sten, so she just shrugged, awkwardly picking at the edge of her sleeve. "Yes, very, um, unfortunate," she said. "I'm glad to see you, Sten. I didn't realize that you thought a wedding was an important event to attend, but I'm happy to see you here."

"You are inviting many guests, are you not?"

"Uh, yes."

He looked at her with a slightly stern expression, though she was used to it by now. "Many guests means many opportunities for enemies to hide among the crowd. I will be patrolling the grounds with the qunari I brought with me."

"You're not watching the ceremony?" she questioned. A moment later, an image came to her mind: Sten and his qunari guards, dressed in fine tunics and drinking wine. Lourdes stifled a giggle. "Well, thank you. I appreciate that my safety ranks so high."

"It is nothing, Kadan. You sought Asala and returned it to me."

"Well, uh. It was nothing," she said, feeling awkwardness settling over her. Sten's constant eye contact was a bit unnerving and she found that she had nothing else to say to the fierce warrior. She was about to make an excuse and leave the room, when Leliana bustled in.

"Lourdes!" the Orlesian was waving something in front of her face. When Lourdes took a step back and allowed to eyes to focus on them, she found they were… flowers. Roughly picked and clashing in colors, but an acceptable bouquet nevertheless. "Look what I found!"

"Stole," Sten corrected, his eyes narrowing upon Leliana. "You did not find. You stole. They were not yours."

"I _found_ them," Leliana insisted, carrying on despite Sten's interruption. "In Sten's room. Found. I did not steal them. I will gladly return them to you, Sten, once I am done showing Lourdes the flowers that you brought for her." The look on the redhead's face was a mixture of smugness and pure glee.

"You are…" Sten searched for the word he was looking for. Though Lourdes imagined that many unpleasant things came to his mind, she was grateful that he didn't say any of them and instead settled on a non-curse word. "Mistaken. You are mistaken and misinformed. I did not bring them for her."

"They were with your belongings!" Leliana said, scoffing at his weak attempts to protest that the flowers were his. "What were they doing there, then?"

"They were dropped," he said smoothly. "I picked them up from the ground."

"Mmm-hmm," the redhead said, grinning. "And who dropped them, then?"

"I… did not see."

"I do not believe you, Sten," Leliana said, sighing dramatically. She handed the flowers back to the qunari. "I guess Lourdes will be flower-less today… how sad, especially since those flowers were so very… um, elite. And sturdy."

"Hmph. I do not need the flowers. You may have them, Lourdes," Sten awkwardly handed the flowers to the bride-to-be. "Since you are the one getting married."

"Right, um," Lourdes said, grinning slightly over at Leliana. The flowers were pretty and it was a nice gesture, if not an unexpected one from Sten. "They're beautiful, Sten. Thank you."

"It is nothing," he said gruffly. "I will continue interrogating your guards."

The guards glanced at each other with horrified looks on their faces that did not go unnoticed by Leliana. She lunged for Sten, threading her arm through his and trying to guide him away from the guards. "I do not think there's a need for that," she said smoothly. "Come, Sten, and walk with me. I believe there are some kittens in the library that we should visit."

There was a pause before the qunari spoke. "Kittens do not need visiting," he said, even as he began to let Leliana guide him out of the room. Their voices continued to carry into the guard post, letting Lourdes hear every word of their conversation.

"I saw you playing with a kitten once, Sten."

"Training. I was training the kitten."

"Well, then. Let us go _train _the kittens in the library."

There was a grunt, then a reluctant-sounding sigh from Sten. "Very well."

While Sten and Leliana went off to the library to _train _the kittens, Lourdes bid the guards farewell (after apologizing about Sten) and set off for the grounds, seeking Shale. It wasn't particularly difficult to find the stone golem, since her gravelly voice boomed clearly.

"I liked the other pair better," she declared loudly. Only when Lourdes grew nearer did she see what the golem was talking about: a cobbler was frightfully hunched over her feet, trying to construct some sort of sandal. "Put them on again. Not those… _those. _The red."

"I like the red," Lourdes called as she approached the pair, grinning. She surveyed the golem, who looked the same as ever. "They look nice with your crystals."

Shale shook the cobbler away from her foot, before standing and nearly crushing his hand in the process. "It is still alive!" she said, beaming. "And I heard it is getting bound ceremonially to another. How marvelous for it."

"Thanks," the Warden said, smiling. "I'm surprised you came. I didn't know that my scouts found you in time for the wedding."

"Apparently," Shale remarked dryly. "I am quite hard to miss."

Lourdes took in the tall golem and her hulking mass, glowing crystals, and huge feet that caused the earth to shake when she took a step. Yes, she could imagine that Shale would be hard to miss. "What have you been doing since I last saw you?"

"I have been walking."

"To where?"

"To the edge of the land. It is farther than I expected it would be," Shale said, before sighing wistfully. She sat down again, motioning for the cobbler to continue his work with shaking hands. "It does not understand, I suppose. This distance is hard to fathom for a human."

"Oh," To the edge of the land? Did that mean she had walked across bodies of water? Or that she had stopped and turned around? Lourdes was in awe, either way. To travel that far and not have to worry about food or sleep… Shale was both lucky and simultaneously unlucky. "Did you find anything you liked?"

"No," she said, sniffing disdainfully, closely watching the cobbler as he secured a red sandal to her thick ankle. "I did find some odd-looking pigeons."

"Oh? What did they look like?"

"Very, very flat. Very squishy."

Lourdes laughed. "I meant before you squished them."

"Like birds, obviously. Has it forgotten what the menace looks like?"

The Warden gave up, deciding to switch the topic away from birds. They were never a good subject with Shale. "Did you see anything interesting besides birds?"

"I met a mage that was quite interested in making me a new control rod. He changed his mind when I snapped his leg like a twig. I don't think I like being controlled. I enjoy being able to walk and not have to worry about taking orders. I think I will continue to do so, once your ceremonial binding is done."

It seemed that everyone else, like Shale, also had plans for their lives once the ceremony was over. And, Lourdes noted with dismay, most of these plans involved going far away from Amaranthine and far away from her.

Only Zevran and Oghren would be there to greet the couple when they returned from their short round of celebratory traveling. The thought of only seeing two of her friends welcoming her home with open arms made Lourdes sad. It felt awfully final, hearing her friends talk about their plans over dinner.

Nathaniel spoke of traveling with Sigrun to Orzammar, where they would explore the city and the many tombs in the Deep Roads. Lourdes supposed that was a good thing… with the two thieves there to disarm any ancient traps that might be there (and to destroy any lingering darkspawn) records and important artifacts could finally be collected.

Leliana was going to travel to Orlais for a short time, before returning to the Chantry in Lothering to see if they needed any help rebuilding the ruined town. After that, she spoke of perhaps going back to the mountains and founding some sort of guild there, because she had enjoyed the beautiful landscapes.

Sten would return to his homeland and Shale would return to… who knew where. Lourdes felt another pang in her chest – they were going far, far away. She would probably never see them again, because they weren't residing within Ferelden borders. It would be easy enough to visit Leliana or Nathaniel, but Shale and Sten were a different matter entirely.

"Are you alright?" Anders asked her quietly as they were retreating to their rooms. "During dinner you seemed a little… distant. What were you thinking about?"

"Everyone's leaving," she said, her voice cracking as she turned the handle of her room. To her embarrassment, her vision began to get misty as she entered the bedroom she had occupied for as long as she could remember. "They're going far away, Anders."

He smiled. (At least, she _thought _he was smiling, she couldn't be sure with her blurred vision.) "They're moving on, Lourdes. What do you want me to do, tie them all up and make them stay with you forever?"

"Could you?"

Anders laughed, pulling her onto the bed and into her lap. His fingers threaded through her hair, which was so much longer than it had been when they met. "I could, but I won't. I might miscast and set them all on fire. I think you'd rather have your friends far away from you than in little urns."

Lourdes laughed lightly, pressing her tear-stained face against Anders' tunic. She felt absurd. She was crying because her friends were leaving? Ridiculous! She hadn't cried when they had all split up the first time, so why was she falling to pieces now? The two Grey Wardens sat in silence for a while, before she spoke softly. "What if I never see any of them again? They could go far away from Ferelden or get sick or die, Anders, and I don't wan-"

"You don't want them to be happy?"

"Of course I do! I just want them to be happy_ and_ safe."

"Would you rather have never met them? So when they get old and die or are killed in some valiant battle, you don't feel sad?" he questioned, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Would you give up all the happy moments you've had with them, all the good things you've done together, just so you don't have to feel hurt?"

She thought of her family. "No," Lourdes admitted with a sigh, pulling away from him. Anders was always right, something that had always irritated her a little but she now found comforting.

"Then dry your eyes," he murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against each of her closed eyelids. "Your friends are here, they're safe. And soon we'll be married."

_Soon _proved to be sooner than Lourdes had initially thought. Time flew by at Highever, as she was busy helping the servants put finishing touches on decorations and organizing tables and picking out the food to be served.

The night before her wedding, the finishing touches on her wedding dress were added. A touch of beadwork here, some taking in at the waist there. Lourdes stood before a giant mirror as one of the servants tucked folds of fabric away and she was surprised by her reflection.

She had begun her journey as a tired and sad looking young woman – she remembered catching her reflection in a river as she traveled with Duncan. Her dark hair had been short, trimmed to chin-length by the wife of an inn keeper on their journey. Now it was longer, brushing her shoulders. It was a little irritating sometimes, but she liked it longer.

Her dark hair wasn't the only thing that had changed, though. Her body wasn't the same as it had been on the initial journey. Eating had always come as an afterthought on the road while they had fought against the Blight. Kill some darkspawn, save some orphans, and oh, right, did I eat anything today? It was a necessity to eat to regain their strength, nothing more. A few months that hadn't included any fighting had changed that – she had curves and a waist and her hard muscles didn't leap out so much.

She was about to evaluate her mental progress (how she had been forced to become an able leader, for instance) when there was a loud knock on her door.

"We're doing fittings," the servant called, her voice slightly muffled through a mouthful of pins.

"Oh, er. Sorry. I can come back later, then. I don't want to stumble upon… well. Later, then," the voice said awkwardly.

Lourdes smiled. "You can come in, Alistair, I'm dressed. I promise I'm decent. No naked bits showing at all."

The door was pushed open, then quickly shut as the king stepped into the room. Evidently he had just arrived at Castle Cousland, since he was still in his armor. It clinked as he crossed the room, pacing back and forth. "I'm so sorry I'm late, Lourdes, I didn't think it would take this long to get here… I can't imagine what I would say to you if I hadn't arrived by morning…"

Her eyebrows arched up in surprise at his worry. Yes, she wanted Alistair to be at her wedding, but there was no need to be so obsessive about being on time. If he had been a little late, she would have understood – he was the king, after all. Weddings weren't as important as foreign diplomacy or looking over laws. "Alistair, it's fine."

"No, it's _not _fine, Lourdes. I mean, you've been such a great friend, you know?" he stopped glanced up at her for the first time before continuing his pacing. "You look beautiful, by the way. What was I saying?"

"I've been a great friend."

"_Right. _You've been a great friend. And you've always been on time to whatever I've asked you to come to. You've always done whatever I've asked you to do. I can't imagine what I was thinking when I pretty much forced you to lead our little band of warriors against the Blight… you were a brand new Grey Warden and I was the senior member and I just didn't do what I needed to do. And now you've asked me to do _one _thing for you - well, two, technically, if you count the boon, which I don't, because I brought that upon myself when I offered it to you – and if I was late, I would have-"

As he was pacing, he didn't seem to notice the fact that Lourdes had dismissed the servant into the hallway. Alistair also didn't notice that she had stepped down from the small footstool she had been standing on, until she was right in front of him, gripping him by armored soldiers.

"_Alistair. _Shut up," she commanded. "Stop pacing, you're driving me crazy. First of all, you're the king. If you were late to my wedding, I wouldn't blame you at all. I'm the one who put you on the throne, remember? So it would have been my fault, technically. And secondly… do you honestly think that I could have stopped the Blight without you? So what if you didn't lead? You were still there. You did Morrigan's ritual so that we could both live. Where would I be without you? Dead, that's-"

He sighed, pulling away from her grip. "No, _I _would be dead, because there is no way I would have let you-"

"Yes, you would have, when I reminded you that you were the brand new king and the country didn't need to lose you. I'm very persuasive. Now shut up and quit feeling guilty about something that you didn't even do. You got here, didn't you?"

"Yes, but-"

"No buts," she ordered, stepping back onto the stool. "Now, step outside and ask the woman who was doing my fittings to come back in. I think I can do this now that I don't have to take care of your guilt."

Alistair began to cross the room, but stopped suddenly. And then he laughed. "Andraste, could you imagine the look on the faces of my advisors if they heard how you were talking to me? Ordering me about like I'm some sort of child…"

"You once told me that you could barely take care of yourself. I'm just helping you do it."

He smiled, pausing at the door. "I'm glad that you found someone to take care of _you_, Lourdes. And, by the Maker, I'm _really _glad that he knows healing spells. Because you tend to get into more trouble than any normal man could handle."

"Wow, thanks," she said, rolling her eyes at him as the servant re-entered. The woman began to sew along parts of her dress, carefully taking in some of the fabric. "Why did I invite you, again?"

"Because you wanted me here," he said, smiling slightly as he moved for the door again. "I'll leave you to your, um, fittings. Try to get to bed before the sun rises – I imagine you're getting up early tomorrow."

Alistair was right – she _did _rise early. A few servants had been asked to awake her at dawn, but she woke about an hour before the sun rose. There was a persistent sound, something that made her stir in her sleep.

"What's…?" Lourdes listened closely to the sound for a few moments, before she identified what it was. And, Maker, her gasp of surprise and her following shout was loud enough to wake both Anders and her dog. "It's raining!"

"I wasn't sleeping," Anders muttered, pressing his pillow over his ears. "Why are you waking me up by yelling the current state of the weather?"

"Because it's raining on our wedding day," she said, hugging her pillow against her chest as she sat up. Sten had been right – it _was _going to rain. Lourdes only hoped that this didn't make everything a giant puddle of mud. The ceremony itself was going to take place inside the castle, but tables and chairs were supposed to be set up outside for guests that weren't able to cram inside the castle.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, removing the pillow. He sat up, kissing her bare shoulder as he did so. "Some people consider it lucky."

"And some people consider it to be something that slows down preparation," she insisted, sliding out of the blankets and going to her wardrobe. She would change into her wedding gown later – for the preparations she was choosing a simple blue dress that could be ripped and torn in case of… well, she was the Warden-Commander. In case of _that. _"We're going to be busy today, thanks to the rain."

It turned out that _busy _wasn't the right word to describe the pre-ceremony preparations. _Hectic _would have been more appropriate. Everything was going on at once, people were filing in to take shelter from the rain and eventually after every room was bursting with occupancy, tents began to be constructed outside. They were quite a sight, mostly because of the way they all varied so greatly. Some were simple and cut from plain and patched fabrics, others were elaborate with silk and ribbons.

She hadn't realized that she had invited so many people of varying statuses until she shook hands with an arl and then greeted a simply dressed woman with crystal blue eyes. She was pretty enough, with shiny hair and a small boy tucked in her arms as she approached the Commander. "Hello," Lourdes said in polite greeting, even if she could not remember the woman's name for the life of her. Had they even met before? "I'm glad you could come. How was the trip?"

"Brief, Warden-Commander, for I live in Highever," she said, bouncing the boy in her arm. "I cannot stay for the ceremony, I just wanted to – to give you this."

The blue-eyed woman paused, sitting her son down and pulling a package from her small pack. She handed Lourdes the wrapped package, hesitant as the Warden opened the package to reveal a beautiful set of engraved silver bracers.

"Oh, I can't take these from you…" Lourdes breathed. They were stunning and obviously well taken care of, for even though they had scratches and a dent or two, they had been polished and used correctly. The symbols on them seemed to be some sort of protective rune.

"No, please, I insist. What am I going to do with them?" the woman asked, gathering the boy in her arms again. She cocked her head in his direction. "Jory's too young to use them and I… I hope he'll never have to."

The fine hairs on the back of Lourdes' neck stood up. Suddenly, she couldn't take her eyes off of the young boy. Jory. His name was Jory. His nose was a little too large for his face, with a distinctive brow and dark chestnut hair on his head. This was Jory's son, which made this woman Jory's wife… and these bracers had to be –

"They were my husband's," the woman said quietly, not meeting Lourdes' eyes. "He left them behind when he went to Ostagar, in case…"

In case he died.

"Let me pay for them," Lourdes insisted. The woman's slightly tattered dress had not gone unnoticed, though both she and her young boy looked clean and well looked after.

The woman's face pinked, her mouth suddenly firm. "No, I couldn't let you do that. You've done so much for everyone and we're – we're fine without it. Thank you, though. My lady."

"Please," she muttered absently. "Call me Lourdes."

The woman – whose name Lourdes could faintly recall being Helena – nodded slightly, bouncing the boy in her arms again. Her gaze stayed on the child as she spoke, quietly and mournfully. "I like to think that if things had been a little different, my husband could have…"

"I'm… so sorry," Lourdes said awkwardly. "Your husband loved you. He really did. I asked him about you and he couldn't stop talking about you. When he – I mean, in the end – he was thinking of you. That's all he was focusing on. He didn't want to leave you alone."

"You were there? Could I ask you… how did he die?"

Lourdes hesitated. She felt compelled to tell this woman that her husband was cut down because he had loved her too much; he had been strongly tied to her and his unborn child. But that would give away the secret of the Joining and Lourdes didn't think that his widow would appreciate knowing that her husband had been murdered by a human and not some beast of the Wilds.

"You could ask, but… I'm not allowed to tell you. I'm sorry. He loved you. He really did."

"Then… that's enough for me to know," she said quietly, pressing her lips to the child's dark hair. "As long as he loved us in the end. As long as he knew that we were his. I've had offers – you know, of marriage – since he… but I don't think I'll take them. I don't think we could belong to anyone else, little Jory and I."

Lourdes felt like saying something along the lines of, _I'm in awe of your strength _or _that's noble _but it would feel inappropriate and out of place with the woman's face of sadness. So instead, she offered help. "If you ever need anything, please… write me a letter. Or my brother. Write the king, even, explaining who you are. We all knew each other."

"I will, my lady. Thank you," Helena said, giving a curt little bow. At least, as much of a bow she could give with the now-squirming Jory in her arms. An apologetic look was given. "I'm sorry, he just gets so restless."

"Not at all," Lourdes said with a grin. "I hope your journey is safe."

"I hope yours is, too. May you also have a wonderful ceremony."

Helena's blessing was not needed. The rain let up an hour before the two Grey Wardens were set to be married. Lourdes did not personally see the sky lighten up and the clouds part, for she was having her hair brushed and prepared for the ceremony. Even so, she was informed the moment that the sun peeked out of the clouds.

"Rain's stopped!" a young woman announced as she entered the room, grinning as she began to apply a light layer of pink on Lourdes' lips. "Just in time, if I do say so myself. I think everything's gonna be dry enough in time for your wedding."

"I hope so," she said when the woman had finished applying the color. She couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen… Lourdes wasn't sure if it was the fact that this was where most of her family had been destroyed, or maybe she had just gotten so used to having _something _go wrong that the knot in her stomach was permanently there. "How's Anders?"

"Err. One of the other girls said he was in the library, introducin' someone called Ser Pounce-a-lot to the qunari fellow."

Lourdes laughed. "I have to see this," she said, before pausing. "At least, if you're done. With my hair, I mean."

"Go," the woman said, giving Lourdes' hair a final pat down to make sure that it was secure. "I'm finished. Do you want to look in the mirror before you go running off to your betrothed?"

"Oh, er, sure," Lourdes said, frowning slightly as her fingers wrapped around the handle of a golden mirror that reminded her of Morrigan. She had never been one to be too preoccupied with appearances, mostly because she had either been training to fight (or actually fighting after Ostagar) to care about how she looked. It felt odd to be wearing makeup, to be in a dress. Not unpleasant – she liked dresses well enough – but… unlike her.

When she looked in the mirror, though, it was definitely _her_ reflection that she saw. Relief flooded her – they had kept her makeup minimal and natural, miming how she normally looked. Even her hair looked like something Lourdes herself might do – it wasn't plaited up and elaborately in an impossible style, but left down with a few tiny braids here and there.

"See the threads?" the younger girl asked excitedly, pointing to one of the tiny braids. "My sister got married and paid a woman from the village to do her hair. She twined pieces of ribbon into her braids and it looked great. We couldn't do thick ribbons with your hair, of course… it'd be far too noticeable and I think you're a natural beauty instead one of those ladies that piles on makeup."

"Oh, well," Lourdes said, at a loss for words. Her employees had actually gone to this much trouble, designing a look that would compliment her features and her personality? She felt a flush of gratitude dust her cheeks. "That's… you all did a wonderful job. The threads are a wonderful touch."

They really were, Lourdes noticed, the more she turned her head and examined her reflection. They were silver and shimmery, their subtle presence a nice touch.

"Now hurry off and fetch your man," the older woman who had styled her hair said, grinning with her hands on her hips. "Or he'll miss your wedding."

Lourdes smiled in return, thanking the woman before picking up her silvery-white skirts and walking down the crowded hallways of her home. She peeked into the hall where they were to be married – many were already sitting in their spots. She could see her closest friends and brother filling the first row, with others starting to file into the room.

She closed the door, pressing on. Several tried to stop her in the hall, giving her a congratulatory hug or saying how glad they were that she had invited them. It took her fifteen minutes to arrive at the library, where Sten and Anders were sitting with their back to the door.

"– and so she gave me a _cat_, of all things, after I had told her about the cat I liked at the tower. I would've thought that she, you know, was _interested _in me, had she not given gifts to everyone else, too. Did she ever give you a gift, Sten?"

"She found Asala."

There was a pause. "Your… lover?"

"My sword."

Anders laughed. "Well, whatever does it for you."

A sigh came from Sten as he watched Ser Pounce-a-lot chase after a string. Lourdes grinned, going to stand near the pair. Sten noticed that she was there first – he stood and turned, looking displeased. Or maybe happy. She could never tell with the qunari.

"I did not realize your husband was such an…" he searched for the work. "Imekari."

"Um," Lourdes said, watching as Anders also stood and glanced from Lourdes to Sten. "Thanks, Sten."

"It means child."

Lourdes laughed, while Anders looked offended. He opened his mouth to speak, but she took his hand in hers, silencing him for the moment. "Well, anyway, he's not my husband yet, Sten. Hopefully will be soon, unless you two wanted to stay here all day."

"Where am I to be stationed?"

"Er, you can sit up front if you'd like," Lourdes said as they began the walk back to the great hall. "That's where everyone else is seated. Except for Shale, since she's… you know, a golem. She's in the back, standing."

"I am too tall to sit in front," Sten said, scowling. "I shall stand at the back with the golem."

And despite Lourdes' attempts to reassure Sten and tell him that he could, in fact, sit without disrupting anyone's vision, he still left the two in the great hall and sought out Shale.

"I've never felt so nervous," Anders said awkwardly, giving a small wave to the horde of people that had crammed into doorways and into the great hall. "Did we really have to invite all these people?"

"Yes," Lourdes said, grinning as the Revered Mother began to make her way through the large crowd of guests. "Don't tell anyone, but I invited them all just so we could get all of their presents."

"See, _that's _why I'm marrying you, because you're so clever," Anders said, smiling. He blinked suddenly, motioning for one of the servants to come forward to the front of the room. She shyly handed him a wrapped package, which he carefully unwrapped. "Speaking of presents. This… is for you."

She gasped as she saw what it was – a tiny, delicate circlet made of silver. Or perhaps steel. Or steel-coated silver. Whatever it was, it was beautiful. The circlet was a dead ringer for the braided ring of grass Anders had placed on her head all those months ago while they had been doing laundry. It could have been the very same one, coated in silver. "It's… it's beautiful, Anders."

He smiled, taking it from her hands and placing it onto her carefully made-up hair. "I thought you'd like it. I mean, it's no chalice full of darkspawn blood, but…"

"Shh," Lourdes reminded him, because the Revered Mother was drawing closer. Maker knew they didn't need the secrets of the Grey Wardens becoming discovered at her wedding. "Hello."

"Think you could have invited more people?" the woman asked, though not without humor as she began the formal words of the ceremony. Lourdes wasn't really listening to most of the ceremony as it occurred; she was only aware that the Revered Mother was saying things and eventually leaned over to put Lourdes' hand into Anders. She was too busy watching her friends, seeing their smiles and how nice they looked. Some of them had come from far away… and some, like Wynne, dubbed this ceremony as something worthy of the time she had left.

Wynne apparently also thought that the _after_ ceremony was worthy of her time, too, because she was one of the first to join Lourdes and Anders in dancing. Almost immediately, Lourdes forgot that she had just been married. She was too busy smiling and laughing, accepting drinks and dances from friends and well-wishers. Occasionally guests stopped grinning and talking to venture into the kitchen, where a long line of tables were set up where guests could pile on their food themselves before finding a place to sit.

The celebratory party went on. And on. And _on. _It was only when the few children that were invited began to yawn and tug on their mothers' skirts did the guests remember that they did, in fact, have places to be. Most of her guests departed in the early hours of the morning, but a few stayed the night. The majority of those that slept over lived far away, so they needed to be rested before they began their long return journeys.

Only nine stayed for longer than five days, but eventually even they had to acknowledge that they had places to return to.

Sten was the first to leave, starting his march home (or wherever he intended to go now) in late morning. His departure was unannounced, so it started Lourdes when he suddenly appeared in front of her dressed in his armor, flanked by his men.

"Panahedan, Kadan," he said grimly. "I wish you victory in future battles."

"And, er, pana… hedan to you, too, Sten. Victory for you, as well," she said, barely recognizing that the wish of success was a goodbye. Her throat was cleared. "Do you think you'll ever return to Ferelden?"

"I hope not. It took me months to rid the stench of dogs from my clothing after the first visit."

She laughed, despite his firm expression and his imposing height. "Very well, Sten. I wish you victory in future battles and in making your clothing smell normal again."

The departure of the rest of her friends followed suit. Alistair left shortly after Sten did, muttering apologies that he had to return to his kingly duties. Lourdes felt a pang of guilt hit her as he left, surrounded by guards decked out in full armor. The age lines on his face were because of her, because she had –

No, he could have refused becoming king. _I might be persuasive, _she realized. _But I'm not persuasive enough to make an unwilling man become king._

That thought lifted her spirits briefly, though they were promptly shot down the next morning as Leliana hugged her goodbye. "Do not forget to write!" the redhead warned sternly, moving to hug Anders just as tightly. "Or I will have to come to Amaranthine and permanently attach uncomfortable shoes to your feet so that you do not forget me."

"If that ever happens, please make mine match my robes," Anders said, grinning as Leliana laughed. He had a request for Wynne, as well, when she departed a day later. "Say hello to everyone at the Circle for me."

Lourdes couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not. He was getting very good at making his sarcasm subtle, as evident later in the day when he promised Shale that her new red sandals made her ankles look thinner.

"Were you just telling her that because that's what she wanted to hear?" Lourdes questioned as they watched (and felt) Shale walking in the opposite direction of Wynne.

"Oh, no, of course not."

She paused. "Are you just telling _me _that because that's what I want to hear?"

"Yes."

Nathaniel and Sigrun departed shortly before Anders and Lourdes, heading not back to Amaranthine but toward Orzammar as initially planned. Zevran left the same day, becoming the last to leave. He gave Lourdes a brief kiss on her knuckles, doing a mock-curtsy.

"I cannot wait to be reunited with Oghren. Tell me, do you think I should drop down from the rafters onto him? Or perhaps sneak into his room whilst he sleeps? Which do you think would frighten him more?"

"I think it would scare him more if you paid a child to call him dad," Anders said helpfully. "Try that and tell me how it goes when we arrive at Amaranthine."

Honestly, Lourdes wasn't quite sure when their arrival at Amaranthine would be. It depended on when they left… and, honestly, Lourdes wasn't in a hurry. For the first time in years, she had nowhere to be.

There was no pressing rush to gather an army. There was no need to collect evidence for a Landsmeet or complete odd jobs in a city for coin. No stray darkspawn needed to be eliminated; neither keep nor city needed immediate saving. It was… _nice_ to be able to relax, with her future open before her. She and Anders planned on eventually returning to Amaranthine, of course, but for the next week and a half, she was content to just sit in Castle Cousland with her husband sitting next to her.

Evidently Anders didn't think she would be content with just sitting, however. Every morning he woke up and surveyed their room, expecting to see packed belongings or some sign that they were leaving her childhood home.

"I imagine you're eager to get back to Amaranthine," Anders said casually one evening, sitting down next to his wife. "When are we leaving?"

"I'm not eager, no," she said, taking a sip of wine as she flipped a page in her book. Her _book. _It had been ages since she had been able to read a book. Well, a book that wasn't pertaining to the darkspawn or some sort of grimoire or anything like that. "I'm fine with staying here for a while."

"Wait, what?" Anders questioned in mock-surprise. He stood from the bench dramatically, pointing a finger at her. "_You _want to _rest? _You want to take a break and put your duties on hold? Are – are you an imposter?"

"No," she said with a grin. "I'm just… content. And anyway, what duties am I putting on hold, exactly? The Grey Wardens can function just fine without us for a while."

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully after a moment, taking her glass of wine and stealing a sip from it. "I guess there is some rest for the wicked, after all."

"Yes, there is," Lourdes agreed, leaning into his side as he once again joined her on the stone bench. "And I'm planning on enjoying it as long as I can."

* * *

"Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." Winston Churchill

* * *

I'm… not really satisfied with bits of this chapter. However, I think I've made you wait long enough, so I posted it.

Also, in a few days you'll be able to download _No Rest for the Wicked _in a pdf on my Dragon Age blog. Not much will be changed, but it has small corrections and a renamed chapter. It also has a sort of behind-the-scenes look that tells more about why I wanted to write this story and how Lourdes became… well, Lourdes.

You'll also be able to find an epilogue on the blog, in both down-loadable pdf form and just written in plain text on the web. If you have any questions about _anything_, please either ask me the question by hitting the 'review' button or by sending me a message on . You can also just leave a comment on the blog if you'd like to do it that way. (Seriously, please ask me a question. It can be stupid or lame, I don't even care! Just ask me something!)

Anyway… I hoped you enjoyed. Thanks for sticking with this. I know I'm not the most consistent writer, but… I had fun. I only hope that you did, as well.

(Also, if you see any errors or consistency flaws, please tell me! I tried to proof read through this, but I was in a big hurry so that you could read it, haha.)


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